


Pretty Little Wolf

by ItsMe_Basil



Series: Pretty Little Wolf [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Sex, BAMF Stiles, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, Dark Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski are Soulmates, Ear Piercings, Fingerfucking, Genital Piercing, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Magical Tattoos, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nipple Piercings, Oral Sex, POV Derek, POV Stiles Stilinski, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Piercings, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek, Psychological Torture, Rough Sex, Soul Bond, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Tattooed Stiles Stilinski, Top Stiles Stilinski, Torture, True Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Warning: Gerard Argent, Warning: Kate Argent, Werewolves in Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 82,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25740616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsMe_Basil/pseuds/ItsMe_Basil
Summary: Derek has heard stories about the Spark -ghe kind of stories that would have his younger self cowering under the blankets. The kind of stories that had Derek stick close to the pack.But when Derek is in trouble, and the pack isnt around, Derek finds himself in the care of said Spark, and he finds out fairly quickly that he's not all he seems to be.Stiles, he finds out, isn't a villain at all. Derek's only heard one side of the story for four years, and now it's time for him to hear the other side from his mate.*-*"Pretty little wolf," he hummed, stepping closer and kneeling beside Derek. Even in his death fogged brain, he recognized the words spoken. The words that were tattooed along his hip bone.The man reached a hand out, long bony fingers brushing against Derek's jaw. That's when recognition dawned on him. He knew this boy -not personally, but he'd seen pictures. This was the Spark. The one Scott had warned him about since Derek had returned to Beacon Hills four years ago. His mate."Fuck me," Derek gasped out, dropping his head on the step."Let's get you better, first, shall we, Puppy?" The Spark hummed.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Pretty Little Wolf [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034574
Comments: 471
Kudos: 2009





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been getting a lot of comments about the spacing in my stories. Unfortunately I can't get the space between my paragraphs. I've tried double spacing before I post, and I've tried going through my books to add the spacing later, and neither works!  
> I'm sorry for the inconvenience.

Derek's limbs shook with the effort it took to keep him upright. His breathing came out in panting wheezes, his eyes blurring before refocusing. 

His knees gave out and he dropped like a stone, grunting in pain as the arrows shifted in his muscles. He couldnt even bring himself to howl for pack. 

He didn't hear anyone, but that didn't mean he was safe to rest. It took everything in him to pull himself back up to his feet, using a tree to brace himself before he staggered forward. 

He knew it wasn't the safest option, but it was the closest, and with the arrows sticking out of him and the bullets still lodged into his gut, he needed a place to lie low and wait. Wait for Scott or any of the betas.

So he staggered deeper into the woods, gasping with every step, growling in pain and shaking with exhaustion and most likely poison. Hunters always laced their arrows with wolfsbane, mixed it into their gun powder.   
He could feel it working, seeping into his blood and making his muscles weak. 

He got to the burned out shell of his once home, but collapsed on the stairs, unable to move any further. Blood coated his hands, sticking his shirt to his torso. He let out a pain filled howl when one of the arrows pierced deeper, almost coming out of his chest. 

The blackness at the edges of his vision was growing, making him dizzy. Maybe it was thr lack of oxygen, or the poison, or the bleeding. Maybe it was a combination of all of it. 

He sagged against the steps, praying Scott at least felt him. Or figured out he was missing. He had told Scott he'd be back by seven, and it was well past midnight. 

Derek fought for as long as he could before the heaviness of his eyelids became too much and he let them fall shut. 

He was so far out of it, the sudden smell of ozone didn't set him off right away. He took a short breath, catching the scent. Another breath, and then a third, before he was flicking his eyes open. There, standing above him was a pale boy with moles littering his skin. He was a blurred figure, Derek was too close to death to really focus on details, but there was a tattoo on his neck, and the guy was looking down at him with interest. 

"Pretty little wolf," he hummed, stepping closer and kneeling beside Derek. Even in his death fogged brain, he recognized the words spoken. The words that were tattooed along his hip bone. 

The man reached a hand out, long bony fingers brushing against Derek's jaw. That's when recognition dawned on him. He knew this boy -not personally, but he'd seen pictures. This was the Spark. The one Scott had warned him about since Derek had returned to Beacon Hills four years ago. His mate. 

"Fuck me," Derek gasped out, dropping his head on the step. He was so tired, on the verge of passing out. The man chuckled a bit before leaning forward and grabbing Derek by the shoulders. 

He growled out in pain as he was forced to sit upright. 

"Let's get you better, first, shall we, Puppy?" The Spark hummed, hooking an arm under Derek's and hoisting him to his feet. Derek swayed, but before he could really fall out of the Spark's hold, he was in a bedroom, and was falling into a bed. 

The Spark guided his fall so he was on his shoulder. "Let's get these arrows out, hmm?"

Derek must've blacked out. When he came to, it was from pain. He howled, eyes flashing blue and teeth sharpening as the Spark pulled an arrow from his shoulder. 

Two in the back, one in the front, and about two bullets he could feel himself trying to heal around. 

The second one in his back was lower, between his ribs, most likely just missing his lung. The Spark grabbed ahold of it and pulled. 

This one was worse -the one that was nearly poking out the other side. It scraped through muscle, tissue and organs. Derek ripped at the bed, cutting through the blankets, sheets and even the mattress as the Spark pulled it out. 

Derek didnt realize he was shirtless, but it made sense -the thing was bloodied and filled with holes. 

"That's it," the Spark spoke softly, his fingers dipping into the muscles around the gaping wounds of his back. They wouldnt heal, not when he was filled with poison. "You're doing so good."

Derek let out another growl when a salve was caked to the holes in his back, and then large bandaids were patched and Derek was being rolled onto his back. 

"That's a nasty strain of wolfsbane," the Spark tutted, scowling at Derek's bare heaving chest. Derek was wavering on the edge of unconsciousness, but was quickly ripped back to awareness when the Spark pulled the last arrow out, dropping it onto the floor with the others. 

Derek was dizzy again, his head spinning, body shaking. He was going to be sick, and he whimpered pathetically. 

"Shh, Puppy, it's alright," the Spark soothed, running a hand over Derek's forehead and cheek. "Sleep now."

And Derek did sleep. He dropped off almost instantly into darkness that he couldnt have clawed out of even if he tried. 

When he came to, there was light streaming through the window to his left. He jolted upright, eyes flashing blue as he took in his surroundings. The room was covered with dried flowers and herbs, crystals and rocks covered every flat surface, as well as stacks of tomes and books wrapped in leather littering the space. 

The door to the rest of the house was closed. Derek could hear the heartbeat of the Spark, could hear him in the kitchen, humming softly. Derek scowled and climbed out of the bed. He wasn't wearing pants or a shirt. He looked around the room, but there was no trace of his clothing anywhere. 

His legs were a little weak and he had to hold onto the wall to keep from falling over. 

His arms shook a little. He stayed put until the initial shakiness wore off, and then slowly made his way to the door.   
He kept his attention to the Spark as he twisted the handle, pulling the door open. 

It looked like a one bedroom apartment. The bathroom was across the small five foot hallway, which lead out to the living room. The kitchen beyond that, and then the front door.

"You're awake."

Derek tensed, eyes falling on the Spark. He slid a plate of eggs and bacon onto the table and nodded to it.

"Come eat."

Derek stayed where he was, gripping the door frame. He still felt weak -like he'd topple over at any moment. 

"What did you do to me?" He growled. The Spark cocked an eyebrow, which Derek noticed was pierced. Only the left one. 

The guy also had a septum ring, and snake bite piercings. The dark metal looped around his lower lip. 

He had two industrials, and his ears were gauged -not terribly big. 

"I healed you," the Spark answered. "You're lucky I showed up when I did, Puppy. You would've died."

Derek growled a bit at that, but the Spark only cocked that eyebrow again. 

"You're eggs are getting cold."

Derek ventured out of the doorframe, cautiously making his way to the kitchen. The Spark watched him the whole time, and when Derek sat down in front of the plate, the Spark smiled and turned away to fix his own plate. 

"What's your name, Puppy?" The Spark asked, moving to sit across from Derek with his own plate. 

"Where are my clothes?" Derek asked instead of answering. It got a smirk out of the Spark, like he found Derek humourous. 

"Torn to shreds and soaked in blood," the Spark spared. "I have some clothes that'll fit you."

Derek didnt acknowledge him, and instead looked down at the eggs and bacon with an untrusting glare. 

"You're not very trusting," the Spark said, sounding amused. Derek eyed him before leaning away from the table and crossing his arms. 

His eyes took in what he could, eyeing the skull tattooed on the side of his neck, dipping into his shirt collar. 

He noticed his hands were also tattooed down to his knuckles, Nordic runes and tribal looking bands. 

"I dont trust you," Derek said. 

"You dont know me," the Spark countered, looking at Derek as he leaned against the table, arms resting on either side of his plate. His sleeves slid up his arms, exposing more tattoos.

"I've heard enough."

"From Scott." He didnt say it like a question. Derek only nodded. The Spark sighed, running a hand over his face before standing up and taking both of their plates. Derek stayed where he was, watching the Spark dump the food into the trash before setting the plates into the sink. 

"Has he turned me into the villain of his hero story?" The Spark asked, looking over at Derek. When Derek didnt say anything, the Spark nodded, looking resigned. 

"Well, let's get you something to wear."

Derek watched the Spark walk out of the kitchen and back into the bedroom. After a second, Derek got up and followed after him, standing in the doorway while the Spark shifted clothes in his closet. 

"You still haven't told me your name," the Spark hummed, pulling out a zip up hoodie and looking it over before glancing at Derek, waiting for his answer.

"Derek."

The Spark smiled and moved to the dresser to find pants. "Derek Hale. I heard about you coming back to town four years ago. If I knew you were mine, I would've gotten to you before Scott could get his talons into you."

The claim did something to Derek's chest, and he scowled a little. He was mated to the Spark -the stories he'd heard about this man could out do the Argents. He was already planning on leaving here and never running into the Spark again, when he was handed the sweat pants and zip up. 

"Get dressed and I'll drive you home."

Derek frowned down at his clothes before looking up at the Spark. 

"You're letting me go?"

"Jeez, Scott really did paint me as a bad guy," the Spark sighed, shoulders sagging. He buried his hands into the pockets of his jeans, covering up the tattoos inking his skin. 

Derek had the urge to hug him, that mating need to sooth. He kept himself still. 

"I'm not sure what Scott told you," the Spark said, jaw clenching. "How he twisted the story in his favor, but don't believe everything he says."

Derek scowled at him. Scott was his alpha. 

Then he was walking past Derek, side stepping and brushing his chest against Derek's arm before leaving him alone. Derek sighed and got dressed quickly. The sweater was a perfect fit -it must be loose on the Spark. The sweat pants were long, but tight. Once dressed, Derek made his way out of the room. 

The Spark looks up from his phone when he hears Derek, and the corner of his mouth turns upward as his eyes take in Derek. 

"Ready?" 

Derek only nods. The Spark slides the phone into his back pocket with long fingers before heading for the front door. Derek follows after him. 

When they're both in the hallway, the Spark turns around and locks his apartment before heading down the hallway. 

Derek hears the whispered curse of a woman further down the hallway, and he watches with a little shock as the Spark jogs over to her and snatches up one of the paper bags in her arms so she can get the keys from her pocket. 

"You should get a wagon or something," the Spark was saying with a grin. Derek blinked. He expected the Spark to trip her as he passed, or even ignore her entirely. 

"Yeah and carry it up the stairs?" The woman rolled her eyes, unlocking her door and kicking it open. 

"I can't always be here to rescue you from the inability to make multiple trips," the Spark chuckled, setting the paper bag of groceries on the floor inside the apartment. 

"Thanks, honey."

"No worries," the Spark shrugged. "See you later."

And then he was walking down the hallway again. It took Derek a minute to kick it into gear, and he moved to walk behind him, hands in the pockets of the jacket. 

"Why did you help her?" He asked as they reached the stairs. The Spark looked over at him with an incredulous expression. Derek wanted to kiss it away. He quickly grounded himself. That wasn't happening. 

"I'm not a bad guy, Derek," the Spark ground out between his teeth, taking the steps down in a quick bounce. "Contrary to popular belief."

"Scott sure seems to think so."

"Well Scott lives in a black and white world," the Spark snapped, eyes flashing white. It caught Derek off guard when he turned to him. It was like his pupils and eyelids disappeared. And then they were back, and the Spark turned back to head out of the lobby. 

"I live in shades of gray. I'm morally ambiguous. If that makes me the villain than so be it." The two made it outside. "But I am not a bad guy."

Derek didn't say anything more. The Spark had a point. Scott did live in shades of black and white. He did have a mightier than thou attitude about him, but Derek assumed it was because he was a true alpha. 

The Spark climbed in to a beat up baby blue Jeep, and Derek scowled. He expected the Spark to drive something a little more sinister; like a 60's Impala, or maybe a 70's Charger. Or even an SUV or a Range Rover. 

He climbed in when the Spark turned the ignition, listening to the engine putter and give up. Derek spared a glance at the Spark, who grumbled and rolled his eyes. 

Two more tries and the engine purred pitifully to life, and the Spark patted the dashboard, praising the piece of shit Jeep before pulling out of the parking spot. 

"Where am I taking you, Puppy?" 

Derek blinked at the nickname. It made him feel inferior. He had always been at the top of the proverbial food chain, though he assumed the man in the drivers seat was more powerful than Derek could ever imagine. 

He'd only heard about Sparks in stories. They were rare -could do anything they wanted as long as they had a powerful enough will. Derek didn't know how powerful the tattooed and pierced man's will was, but he didnt want to find out. 

"Warehouse district," Derek said shortly. The Spark nodded and turned towards the direction. 

The Spark's apartment was downtown, nearly thirty minutes from Derek's loft, but on the East side of East Hills river. The rest of the pack lived on the West side. 

Derek couldnt help but breathe in the deep scent of the Spark in the Jeep, in the clothes he wore. He smelled like ozone and herbs, and rain. He still didnt know his name. 

"I live there," Derek pointed. The Spark leaned forward, arms resting on the steering wheel to look up at the building ahead of them. He whistled lowly in appreciation. 

When he pulled up to a stop outside of Derek's building, Derek glanced over. "Thanks."

And the Spark smiled a wide toothy smile, shoulders squaring. "Anything for you, Puppy."

Derek glanced away and opened the door, climbing out. He was about to shut it when he leaned back down, frowning a bit as he looked at the Spark. 

"I don't know your name."

The Spark's smile turned into a smirk, running a tattooed hand through his hair. 

"Its Stiles."


	2. Chapter 2

Derek wondered if Stiles brainwashed him while he was unconscious. It was the only logical reason as to why Derek was so fucking mad at Scott. 

It only took mentioning it, and suddenly Derek is noticing every little thing about Scott.

How when he got home, not a single message from Scott asking if he was okay or why he bailed the night before. And Derek had spent the whole morning in Stiles' clothes before a text finally did come through, and it was to tell Derek he was needed at the pack meeting. 

So he changed and showered, because the sudden possessiveness of Stiles' scent was too strong. 

When he reached Scott's house, he barely got more than a, "good, you're here", before Scott was talking about the latest bout of hunters in Beacon Hills. The same hunters Derek had run into last night. The same hunters that almost killed him, and Scott had no idea. 

He didnt know why he was angry. Maybe it was the betrayal. As the alpha, it was Scott's job to take care of his betas, and although Derek was older, and was a born -not bitten, like Scott and the rest of the pack- it still felt like Scott wasn't taking this seriously. Wasnt taking being alpha seriously. 

And it was like a damn had broken in his mind, and he was recalling quite a few things Scott did that wasn't what he should have. 

Like letting Deucalion go, letting Gerard go. Not killing that vampire two years ago. And the more Derek pulled at that thread, the more shit unraveled. 

Scott had never once actually stopped a threat. He never got his hands dirty, never killed. He was a true alpha, he didnt have to kill for his powers, but it seemed even when faced with the worst of them, Scott decided to show compassion and let them live. 

He wondered if that was why Stiles was still alive. Could Scott not bring himself to kill the Spark he warned his betas about? 

Derek was so lost in thought, he didnt hear the rest of the meeting. He stood at the end of the table, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. It wasn't out of character for him, so no one asked. Which just made Derek madder. 

Was Scott so out of tune with his betas that he couldnt sense Derek's mood? Derek could sense the mood of everyone in this room. Sure, Erica, Boyd and Issac were newly turned, so he wasn't all that bothered that they couldnt, but Scott had been a werewolf since Freshmen year, and that was eight years ago now. 

"Why'd you bail last night?" Erica asked at the end of the meeting, pulling Derek from his thoughts. The group were all looking at him now, even Scott. It made Derek want to claw his throat out.

"Busy," Derek supplied shortly. "We done here?"

Again, it wasn't unusual for Derek to be short with his pack. Yet he found himself getting even angrier that no one seemed to catch that this time there was a reason aside from his grouchy disposition. 

"Yeah, we're finished," Scott nodded, smiling at Derek before dropping that alpha stance for his more lazy demeanor of slacked shoulders. 

Derek nodded once before leaving the kitchen, silently making his way to the front door and then getting into his Camero. 

He sped through town, made it back to his apartment and when he got into his loft, the faintest hints of Stiles filled his nose and he breathed in deeply. It calmed him, and he walked towards the clothes on his bed in a trance, dropping onto his stomach and burying his face into the clothes to breathe him in. 

After what felt like hours but was only twenty minutes, Derek pulled himself up and walked to the kitchen to make food. 

His mind continued to wander, at first to Scott, and then back to Stiles. He wasn't at all like he expected. 

Scott had told him about how the Spark had beat someone to death with a wrench, how he used his powers to cripple a feral omega before ending his life. Scott described how Stiles liked it, how he had dipped his fingers in their blood and how he'd make people suffer. 

Scott made Stiles sound like the worst kind of demon, but he wasn't. Not from the couple hours he'd known him. Stiles helped his neighbor with her groceries, and from how they were with each other, Derek could tell it happened often.   
He wanted to know more. He wanted Stiles' side of the story. He wanted to see if Scott was wrong, because it was looking like it. 

It was dark out, and Derek was about to get dressed for bed, but he found himself grabbing his wallet and keys. He was walking to the door, then down the stairs and outside to his car. 

He was halfway across town before he even realized what he was doing, but he didn't turn around. 

He parked next to that baby blue Jeep and climbed out of his Camero. He shoved his keys in his pockets, and marched into the apartment complex. 

He wanted his questions answered, and he didnt want to hear them from Scott. 

He knocked on the door to Stiles' apartment when he reached the correct floor. It was nearly eleven at night. He shouldve waited until morning. 

There was a grunt at the other side of the door, shuffling, foot steps growing closer, and then the deadbolt sliding open. 

Stiles opened the door in low hanging blue checkered sweat pants and no shirt. More tattoos were exposed. He had his nipples pierced. Derek couldnt help his eyes trailing down from shoulders to the fuzzy snail trail that disappeared below his sweats. 

"What are you doing here?" Stiles asked, running a hand through his hair to tame it. He had been in bed. 

"We need to talk," Derek said. Stiles raised an eyebrow before stepping to the side and holding an arm out to gesture for Derek to come inside. 

He did, and Stiles shut the door behind him, sliding the deadbolt back across before leading the way into the kitchen. 

"Tea?"

"No."

Stiles brought down a cup and grabbed a container of apple juice from the fridge, filling the glass half full before returning the carton to its spot. 

"What's got you scowling, Puppy?" Stiles finally asked, leaning his hip against the counter as he sipped his juice. Derek cant help but take in the newly exposed skin. 

His chest had a triple moon goddess tattoo. The middle full moon took up residence in the middle, with half moons on either side. The moons were realistically drawn, with circles and dots connecting the three in a symmetrical design. 

The skull on the right side of his neck dips into his collarbone. Two tattoos ran the curve of his hips, disappearing into his sweats. They were lines; thin, thick, with runes, then thick, more runes, thick, thin. 

His right arm sported a 9 worlds vegvisir tattoo, starting just below his elbow and reaching his wrist with a series of sharp angled lines and shapes. 

Above his elbow was a twirling pattern of a Celtic symbol Derek couldn't identify. His knuckles had runes on both hands. 

His left arm looked like his hip tattoos, alternating thin and thick lines of black with runes and symbols in between, from the back of his hand all the way up to his shoulder. He'd seen the tree tattooed across the expanse of his back, gnarled branches winding across his shoulder blades, the trunk thick and twisted on the left side of his back, roots dipping across his lower back, and disappearing with the other tattoos into his sweats. 

Stiles was still waiting for a reply, which Derek should give. He'd stormed into the apartment, most likely woke Stiles up, but that anger he had the whole day had dissipated. The questions he had were gone.

Derek was moving before he could think -just like earlier- and Stiles had just enough time to set his glass on the counter before Derek's chest was pressed to Stiles', arms bracketing Stiles to the counter. 

Stiles eyes were bright, a smirk toying at his lips as he looked at Derek. He didn't have time to talk before Derek was crashing their lips together. 

Stiles' arms lifted up, curling one arm around Derek's neck while the other one gripped his waist, pulling him even closer. 

Stiles' mouth moved with Derek's, lips locking, jaw dropping, tongue licking inside each other's mouths. The two rings on Stiles' lower lip clinked against his teeth, felt cool against his tongue. He blamed his actions on the bond between them -the words written on each other's skins. He blamed Stiles' scent. He blamed Stiles. He did something, he had to have, because there was no way Derek was this needy. He had been content before Stiles, and then the Spark had done something to him. 

Derek broke the kiss off, pressing Stiles further into the counter and nearly bending him backwards as he drove into his neck, kissing at the exposed tattoo. 

Stiles hummed, his hand moving up to grip Derek's hair. He nipped at his neck, taking the tendon between his teeth and pulling gently. 

"Easy, Puppy," Stiles groaned, and Derek felt his dick pressing against Derek's thigh. 

Derek only growled in response, biting down on his neck again, lapping at the bruising skin. He tasted good -smelt good. 

He should be terrified of Stiles. He should be avoiding him, finding a way to disable him, possibly a way to kill him. He shouldn't be drawn to him -not like this. He didn't even know how powerful Stiles really was -what all he could do. 

For all Derek knew, he could've easily staged everything. The hunters, the healing, the words. He hasn't seen Derek's words on Stiles, and it didn't take much to see the words written on his hips -they peek out when he lifts his arms.

Derek pulls back again and looks over Stiles' chest, eyes looking over every inch of him.   
When he doesn't find the words there, he grabs Stiles' arm, the one with the thick lines and runes. 

"What are you doing?" Stiles asks, and he sounds breathlessly amused. Derek doesn't answer him, just flips his arm, lifts it up to look at his side. He does the same with his other arm, Stiles looking extremely amused.   
Derek takes a step back, grabbing Stiles and forcing him to turn around to check his back. No words. 

"Where are they?" Derek demanded, forcing Stiles back around to face him. Stiles' power rested in his Spark, not his muscles. To everyone else, Stiles was human. The only time he wasn't was when he used his Spark, meaning he was easily manipulated and manhandled. Something Derek noticed he wasn't a fan of, if the small scowl on his lips was anything to go on. 

"Where are what?" Stiles asked, and Derek held back a growl of frustration. 

"The words," Derek supplied, looking over his front again, in case he missed it. 

Stiles cocked an eyebrow before sighing and reaching for the band of his sweats. 

Derek took a half step back, and then Stiles was dropping his sweats and stepping out of them, leaving him completely naked with a hard on and -fuck, his dick was pierced. 

Derek gaped. Stiles was sporting around seven inches, and the underside had five piercings, as well as one on the head. Derek shifted, phantom pain causing him to adjust himself and wince.   
Stiles only smirked. He definitely wasn't shy about it. Derek wasn't too familiar with piercing names, but he knew what those ones were called -for the sole reason that the idea of dick piercings sounded incredibly painful- Jacob's Ladder and a Prince Albert. 

And then Stiles was spreading his legs a little, and his long fingers pushed his dick to the right, and there, on the inside of his thigh, high up, was the words FUCK ME in dark ink. 

"I personally think the placement is perfect," Stiles hummed. "Dont you?"

Derek just blinks. He's never been a fan of tattoos or piercings. It's been a major turn off when his partners had tongue piercings or nipple rings or bellybutton rings. 

Now though, he wanted to mouth at every body modification Stiles had, from the ones in his ears to his eyebrow piercing; his septum, his snake bites and nipple piercings to the bars running through the underside of his dick, and all of the tattoos between. 

Derek noticed one last tattoo, hidden in his pants. It was a calf tattoo of trees -thick pine trees ending just below his knee. Towards his ankle was dark, black bleeding over his ankle and onto the top of his foot.   
"Did that hurt?" Derek asked once he swallowed, letting spit wet his dry throat. His eyes landed on Stiles' dick again, though he saw the amusement on his face. 

"Like a bitch."

Derek wouldn't doubt it. And to pierce it through the head on top of the five running down the shaft?

"I'm feeling pretty under dressed here," Stiles commented, a smirk toying at his lips as he leaned into the counter, like he wasn't completely naked. "How about you join me?"

Derek blinked, then he was toe-heeling out of his shoes and kicking them to the side while he unbuttoned his jeans. 

Growing impatient with his jeans, he reached for the hem of his shirt, yanking it off. 

Stiles was on him before the shirt hit the floor. Mouthing at his jaw while his long spider leg fingers danced across his sides. 

Derek dropped his jeans and boxers before crowding Stiles back into the counter, smashing their mouths together. 

Derek gasped into Stiles' mouth when he felt Stiles wrap those long fingers around his cock. He broke the kiss, eyes dropping to see both of their dicks in Stiles' hand. 

Stiles' was thinner than Derek's, and a little longer. He let out a needy growl, mouthing at Stiles' neck again. There was already a hickey forming near the front of his neck. Derek bit and sucked at the skin under Stiles' jaw while Stiles worked his hand over their cocks. 

The feel of the piercings on Derek's sensitive skin made him shiver, and he rocked into Stiles' hand, feeling each piercing rub against him. 

"That's it, Puppy," Stiles hummed in appreciation, tilting his head to the side to give Derek more room. "Just like that."

Stiles' other hand reached lower, digging his middle finger into the underside of Derek's balls, pulling an explicit sound from Derek. Stiles definitely knew what he was doing, and it should've been embarrassing how fast he came, but he didn't have time to be when Stiles came right after him, the two of them painted in each other's cum. 

Stiles' head had fallen back, exposing his throat as he groaned, body shaking a bit with his orgasm. Derek was oposite, his orgasm was silent, body tensing and head falling forward until he rested his forehead against Stiles' shoulder. 

Both were breathing hard when Stiles moved his hands. Derek could feel cum dripping down his torso, but he didn't care as he lifted his head, searching for Stiles' mouth. 

Stiles tilted his head, meeting him half way, stepping closer until their chests were touching, the cum between them smearing. 

"Let's take a shower," Stiles said, breaking the kiss and nosing at Derek's jaw. Derek couldnt help but nod, and let Stiles drag him from the kitchen through the living room and into the bathroom. 

It was under the spray of warm water that Derek remembered the reason he had come here. "We still need to talk," he pointed out as Stiles used a soapy wash cloth on their chests. Stiles looked at him with that amused tilt of his mouth, hair wet and sticking to his forehead.

"Whatever you want, Puppy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a cover for this book! Its [Here](https://super-wolf-sterek.tumblr.com/post/625828895616368640/show-chapter-archive)! 
> 
> I've also made mood boards for Stiles and Derek (for this book) would you guys want them embedded? I cant post Stiles' on tumblr because of their no dick policy 🙄


	3. Chapter 3

Derek woke up first. He looked down to see Stiles had wrapped himself around Derek's body.  
His head was on Derek's chest, one arm slung loosely around his torso, and one leg slotted between his. 

He just laid there, watching Stiles sleep. His mouth was parted, soft snores filling the otherwise quiet room. He continued to watch in fascination as Stiles' snoring stopped, his mouth closing. His fingers twitched against Derek's ribs, his legs spasming. 

Seconds later, he was settled again, and Stiles shifted a little until his forehead was pressed against his ribcage under Derek's arm. 

Stiles woke up slowly. If Derek couldnt hear the change in his breathing, he wouldve assumed Stiles was still sleeping. Long minutes dragged out before Stiles moved, stretching along Derek's side in the most sinuous way, legs tensing against his, arm tightening around Derek's middle while he buried his face sleepily into his side. 

It reminded Derek of those cats online where they tuck their heads into their front paws. Something Derek never thought he'd be comparing the Spark to. From what Scott had told him, Stiles should be compared to Norman Bates, not cats. 

Stiles rolled over with a loud inhale, eyes finally blinking open as he looked up at the ceiling with a frown. 

Derek stayed put, continuing to watch him. He didnt know why, but he wanted to know what Stiles was like in the morning, and he was fucking soft. It intrigued him. 

And then Stiles turned his head, finally looking at Derek, blinking sleepily, with a small smile pulling at his pierced lips. 

"Hmm," he hummed. "Mornin'."

And damn, his voice was low and rough. Derek shifted so he was no longer on his back, moving so he was caging Stiles against the mattress, elbows on either side of Stiles' head. It only made Stiles' smile widen, tattooed fingers counting the ribs on either side of Derek's chest. 

Stiles lifted his head in a clear demand for a kiss, and Derek happily leaned down to meet him. 

"I think we should fuck around, have breakfast and then have that talk," Stiles spoke against Derek's lips, hands already on Derek's ass. 

Derek nodded in agreement, allowing Stiles to pull him down until their hips were flush. There was a sheet separating the two, but neither made a move to remove it. 

Derek grinded his hips down on Stiles', feeling the tattooed man's cock heavy against his own. 

Stiles' hands continued to roam his body, squeezing his ass, digging nails into the skin of his hips, fingertips trailing over his ribs like piano keys before curling around his neck. His long fingers squeezed at his neck as Stiles licked into Derek's mouth, brushing his tongue against the back of his front teeth before retreating into his own mouth. 

Derek growled lowly, putting more pressure into his thrusts, feeling the piercings on the underside of Stiles' dick pressing into his own. God, Derek loved it. 

"God, Derek-" Stiles gasped, his mouth going slack. "You're so good."

Derek preened at that, rolling his hips against Stiles and pulling out a moan from the smaller man. 

It wasn't long before Derek felt that familiar pull low in his gut. He could smell Stiles was close too, could see Stiles' body tensing under him. 

Stiles came with a shuddering moan, head dropping back and shoulders pushing into the pillows -opening himself up to be completely vulnerable in the heat of his orgasm.

Derek came after three more quick thrusts, his own orgasm. He stilled above Stiles, gritting his teeth and letting out a weak growl as he came in the sheets, head dropping onto Stiles' chest.  
Derek took a minute to breathe in the scents of Stiles' bedroom -the herbs, cum, and the wonderful smell of ozone and petrichor. 

Stiles smelled like a rainstorm with hints of old spice deodorant. He remembered the smell got stronger when he used magic, turning sharper, like a thunderstorm. He inhaled again, burying his nose into the dip of Stiles' collarbone. 

This wasn't like Derek. Derek didn't do sex like this. He liked dating -learning about someone before taking them to bed. Derek didnt know anything about Stiles, save for what Scott had told him, and he was beginning to think that was all wrong.  
Especially when he felt those long spider leg fingers tracing against his hip, feather light.

Derek glanced down, seeing those fingers tracing the words he'd first spoken to Derek. 

Derek looked up, blinking in surprise at the soft fondness Stiles wore on his features, honey whiskey eyes half lidded and a small smile on his lips.  
Stiles looked up when he noticed Derek staring, eyes flickering between Derek's. Derek watched as his features took on a more determined look, the fingers on his hip growing a little more firmer. 

"You're mine," he said, sounding as possessive as any 'wolf Derek's ever met. He felt his chest swell and let out a whine, dropping completely against Stiles and nuzzling into his neck. Their chests were flat against each other, both feeling every breath each took. Derek tightened his arms, curling them around Stiles and pulling him even closer. 

Neither seemed to mind the slowly drying and tacky cum spot on the sheets between them. 

Derek really needed to sit down and just talk with Stiles. He needed to clear the air, dispel any untruths Scott had weaved. He needed to hear Stiles' side, they needed to discuss the bond between them. There was so much to talk about, and it felt like he kept getting side tracked.

He had just decided to get up for that talk when his phone rang. He wanted to smash it into the wall. The only person who called him was Scott. Everyone else texted if they needed to -which wasn't very often. 

"Gonna answer it?" Stiles asked, arms caging against Derek's back with no intention of letting go. 

"Its just Scott," Derek grumbled. Stiles sighed, a long drawn out breath that had his chest deflating under Derek. 

"Might be important," Stiles hummed, sounding like he didn't believe his own words. Derek just shook his head. 

Another sigh left Stiles before he lifted one hand off of Derek. A second later his phone was closer, the ringing louder. 

Stiles answered the phone and pressed it into Derek's ear. 

Derek growled in displeasure at Stiles. 

"Hey, why are you growling at me? It's not like I woke you up!" Scott grunted on the other end of the line. Derek lifted his head from Stiles' neck, taking the phone into his own hand and raising to his elbow. 

"What do you want?" Derek asked shortly, feeling Stiles' fingers tracing the muscle of his back. 

"Erica and Boyd found traps in the preserve," Scott said. "We need your help taking them down."

"Why? There's four of you," Derek said, frowning. He flipped himself off of Stiles, dropping his head on the pillow beside Stiles'.

"Because you're more familiar with hunter's traps," Scott said, sounding put out for having to explain it to Derek. 

"I'm more familiar with them because they've been used on me, Scott," Derek growled. "I dont know how to disarm them."

"But you know how to set them off."

Fucking Christ. Derek wanted to smash the phone. "Yeah, you run into them."

He heard Stiles huff a laugh beside him. 

"Are you with someone?"

"I am," Derek snapped.

"Well, can you come help us?"

"No."

"Derek, we need your help! Can't whoever you're with just wait? This is kind of important."

Derek let out another growl. "If I help you, you give me three days of quiet."

"Fine," Scott conceded. "Just hurry up." And then the phone went dead. 

Derek dropped the phone onto the floor, not hard enough to break it. 

"I see Scott hasn't changed at all," Stiles huffed, climbing out of bed. Derek grunted in agreement. He wondered how long Scott and Stiles knew each other. But he didnt have time to ask. Their conversation was gonna have to be put on hold -again. 

Derek watched Stiles move around the room, taking in the tattoos and moles littering his skin. His eyes landed on Stiles' ass, feeling blood flow to his cock when Stiles bent over to grab a pair of boxers off the floor. 

He turned and tossed them at Derek. They were Derek's boxers. 

"We don't want to keep the princess waiting, now do we, Puppy?" Stiles asked, and God, Derek was starting to like being called Puppy. It made him feel possessed -claimed. 

He got out of bed, stepping into his boxers and then his jeans when Stiles handed them over. He was still fully naked, and when Derek sat down on the bed to get his shoes on, Stiles left the room. 

He grabbed his phone and slipped it into his back pocket before walking out. Stiles was sipping from a mug, leaning against the counter. 

"Come by when you're finished," Stiles hummed. Derek nodded and shut the door behind him.  
He got to his car and drove to the preserve, Scott texting him once to ask where he was and nothing more. Derek didnt respond, just kept driving through town. 

When he finally got to the preserve, he drove down the dirt road to where a parking lot sat for visitors to park to walk thr trails. He parked beside Scott's motorbike and Issac's silver Malibu and jumped out. 

He used his nose to follow the scent of his pack deep into the woods. When he began hearing them talking, he picked up the pace. 

"Finally," Scott snapped. "Where were you? It doesnt take that long to get here from the loft."

"I wasn't at the loft," Derek snapped back. He reached the group, eyeing the trap with a scowl. It was a common bear trap. 

"You seriously needed my help with this?" Derek growled. He didnt wait for an answer, just grabbed a branch from the ground and slamming it into the middle. The metal teeth snapped shut, splintering the wood with a loud crash. It made the other beta's jump. 

"There's different kinds," Erica said softly. "It'd be over a lot quicker with your help."

Derek sighed, then nodded. He wasnt angry with Erica. He was angry with Scott. 

"Then let's get this over with."  
He moved to walk away when Scott grabbed his arm, a frown on his face as he looked Derek over. 

"Why do you smell like Stiles?" Scott demanded, eyes flashing red. "He's dangerous, Derek, you need to stay away from him."

Derek ripped his arm free, ignoring the three betas behind him to growl at Scott. 

"For all that talk about Stiles being dangerous and amoral and inhuman, you sure don't seem very concerned about my well being," Derek growled.

"I don't need to be," Scott scowled. "You're fine."

He gestured to Derek, as if to prove it, and Derek growled again and shoved Scott hard. He slammed into a tree, the three betas taking a hesitant step forward, wanting to protect their alpha. 

"Disarm the traps on your own," Derek growled, stepping away from Scott. He ignored the pack as he turned on his heels, storming from the preserve and back to his car. 

He got into his car, slamming the door with him inside. He had to calm down. He felt his eyes flashing in anger. God how had Derek been able to handle Scott for four years?

He jolted at the buzzing in his pocket and fished out his phone, growling lowly. If it was Scott-  
He blinked at the name flashing across the screen and quickly answered. "Cora?"

"Hey, big brother," came Cora's cheery voice. "I was wondering if you had any room available? I'm getting home sick."

Derek blinked, shoving all his anger down deep as he started the car and pulled out of the space. 

"Yeah, of course," Derek said. "Your room is still the way you left it. How long are you staying?"

"Two weeks? If that's okay with you."

"Of course," Derek said, heading for the loft. He needed the distraction. "What about your classes?"

"Its spring break, Der," Cora huffed, sounding fondly amused. Derek never could remember school schedules. 

"Right," Derek hummed. "When does your flight land?"

"I fly out in two days, it'll land at about midnight on Wednesday."

"Okay, I'll come pick you up," Derek said, pulling to a stop outside his building. He cut the engine and stepped out. 

The two talked while Derek climbed the stairs, Cora talking about her studies and classmates. It was a good distraction. When the phone call ended, Derek spent the rest of his morning cleaning the loft.  
He checked the cupboards and made a list of things he needed to buy before Cora came by. 

She only had one more year of school left, and both assumed Cora was going to move into the loft. She even had her own room up on the second floor. 

He went up to change the sheets and sweep the floors. He dusted the bed frame and the dresser and desk, then headed back downstairs. He grabbed the list from the counter and slipped it into his jacket pocket. 

It was noon when Derek made his way back to Stiles' house. He wanted to have that talk before he went grocery shopping. He needed to clear the air between them. 

When he knocked, he heard a thump and a grunt, like Stiles bumped into something. His assumption was proven when Stiles opened the door with a wince, rubbing at his hip. 

"You okay?"

"Oh, yeah," Stiles grinned, waving his hand dismissively. "Want to come in?"

Derek nodded, stepping in when Stiles moved out of the way. The smell of petrichor and ozone enveloped him, wrapping around every sense and instantly calming Derek. Stiles shut the door behind him. 

"I'm in the middle of making lunch. Want to help?"

Derek nodded again, following Stiles the short distance to the kitchen, where stuff for sandwiches were laid out. 

"Tell me what's on your mind, Puppy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! So I've tried for the past couple days to embed an image, and it's not working, so I uploaded the mood boards to pinterest because that's the only app I have that hasn't banned dicks. 
> 
> Anywho, here is [Derek](https://pin.it/31ca8Is) and [Stiles](https://pin.it/HkWsjvi)! Let me know what you think!! Stiles' moodboard is what I picture Stiles to look like, and I had to make Derek one just because I didnt want him to feel left out. 
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter too!!


	4. Chapter 4

"What happened between you and Scott?" Derek asked, deciding bluntness was the best option. Stiles paused, fingers gripping the butter knife tightly. Derek could smell the sudden zing of ozone coming off Stiles, but he didnt take back the words. He needed to know. 

"Nothing," Stiles said, voice sounding tight. He set down the knife and busied his hands with unwrapping the single wrapped cheese. 

"I know that's a lie," Derek said, stepping closer. Stiles glared at him, setting his jaw in a hard line. 

"He thinks you're dangerous," Derek said. 

"I am," Stiles snapped, eyes flashing white. Derek's heart jolted at the sight. He had to take a breath and squash the sudden need to leave. Stiles wouldn't hurt him. At least, he hoped so. 

"He said you're a cold-blooded serial killer," Derek continued. It made Stiles' heart beat skyrocket, and he took a step back, like Derek had just punched him in the gut. 

"I'm not-" Stiles blinked, shock leading way to anger. The smell of ozone spiked again, and now it was Derek who took a step back. 

"Everything that I am," Stiles bit out. "Is because of Scott."

The venom in his voice made Derek wince a bit. But he didn't sound just angry anymore -he sounded hurt. 

"What did he do?" Derek asked softly. 

Stiles shook his head, sandwich forgotten as he stormed out of the kitchen. Derek turned around and followed him, stopping just at the end of thr couch when Stiles began pacing, the air around him crackling with electricity. 

"Please, Stiles," Derek spoke. "I need to know. I need to hear from you because I've only heard Scott's story, and you're my mate! I don't want to just know his side."

Stiles stopped pacing to look at Derek, jaw working and brows furrowed. "He dehumanized me," he snapped. "How could he fucking say that shit after everything I've done for him! After all the years we've known each other?"

Derek blinked, and Stiles went back to pacing. Derek moved forward hesitantly, catching Stiles around the waist and burying his nose into Stiles' neck, hoping it'd sooth him. 

He could smell Stiles' scent leveling out into that wonderful rainstorm smell, the air seeming to quiet around them. 

Stiles lifted his arms, curling them around Derek's neck and sighing. Derek instantly relaxed a little in Stiles' hold, and he buried his face deeper into his neck. 

"Please," Derek spoke lowly. "I don't want to be afraid of you. I want your side."

"You're afraid of me?" Stiles asked, and he sounded hurt. It made Derek whine pitifully, tightening his hold on Stiles. 

"I'm afraid of the stories," Derek confessed. He pulled back enough to look into Stiles eyes, taking in the mix of emotions he couldnt even try to untangle. 

"Okay," Stiles said, stepping out of Derek's hold. He nodded for thr couch, and Derek moved to sit, Stiles sitting on the other side. Both were turned to face each other, one leg bent across the cushions and the other planted on the floor. 

"I don't know what Scott's told you," Stiles said, spitting Scott's name like a curse. "But I'm sure he's warped it to make me look worse."

"Just tell me he's wrong," Derek pleaded. Stiles gave a sad half smile and shook his head a little with a sigh. 

"He got the serial killer part right," Stiles said. "But I'm not- I don't kill because I want to."

Derek watches his fingers tangle together in his lap. It's so opposite to the person Scott drilled into his head.

"I'm not some ruthless murderer. They deserve it," Stiles says. He looks up to look at Derek in the eyes. "I wont hurt you."

Derek knows this. Somewhere deep in his chest. He moved across the couch, Stiles moving his leg out of the way so Derek could lay over Stiles. He dropped his head on Stiles' chest, inhaling deeply while Stiles curls his limbs around him. Legs hooking around his hips and arms braced tight around his shoulders. 

Stiles curls himself further around Derek by placing his cheek on Derek's head, tightening his hold. Derek's never felt more content in anyone else's arms. 

"I'll kill anyone who ever tries to hurt you," Stiles confesses, and Derek holds him tighter. He doesnt hear the lie, and it makes his chest swell. 

Derek moved up Stiles so he could nuzzle against his neck, inhaling the petrichor and ozone. He would kill for Stiles -he knew even this soon to their meeting- but saying so now felt like it would decrease the sincerity, so Derek dragged his nose across Stiles' jugular. 

"I believe you," Derek said, voice muffled against Stiles' skin. He heard the uptick in Stiles' heartbeat. Felt the sharp and shallow inhale of breath. He stilled under Derek. 

"You do?" Stiles whispered, sounding shocked and unsure. It made Derek wonder how many times he wasn't believed. How many people didn't believe him. He knew one of those people would be Scott, and it made Derek want to flash his eyes and drop his fangs and bite into something. 

Instead, he lifted his head, looking into Stiles' honey whiskey eyes and surged forward, capturing Stiles' pierced lips between his own. 

The sudden need to scent and mark welled in his chest. The strong scent that was all Stiles and bad weather permeated the air so heavily, Derek wondered if he could smell it from the hallway. 

When he pulled away, his eyes were glowing blue. Stiles grinned up at him and Derek blinked his eyes back to green. Stiles smelled happy and content, but Derek could smell negative emotions as well- cautiousness, anxiety, hurt and anger.

He reached his hand up, brushing against the shell of Stiles' ear, his finger catching on the industrial before pressing into the gauge in his lobe. He didn't know the sizes, but he'd seen bigger ones. These were about the width of the tip of his finger, smaller than a dime.   
His fingers traced to the other side of Stiles' face, where his eyebrow was pierced. Stiles laid silent, honey whiskey eyes searching as Derek traced his fingers down his cheek. 

His thumb brushed against the hoop through his septum and Stiles' nose scrunches. 

"That tickles," he chuckled, rubbing at his nose to get rid of the sensation. Derek leaned in, brushing his lips against Stiles', feeling the two thin hoops press against his mouth. 

"Why do you have so many?" Derek asked, pulling back to run his thumb back over his eyebrow piercing. 

"They're pretty," Stiles hums, grinning. Derek has to agree with him. He's never seen anyone pull off piercings, but on Stiles, it makes Derek want to play with them all. 

"Which ones did you get first?"

"Ear lobes first," Stiles said, pinching at his left ear. "Then my septum, the industrial. I started gauging my ears when I got my nipples done. Then I got the Prince Albert, my eyebrow, and then the Jacob's Ladder."

"And the tattoos?" Derek asked, eyeing the skull on the side of Stiles' neck. 

"Got my first tattoo when I was seventeen, and just kept adding."  
"What do they mean?"

Stiles shifted and Derek lifted off him enough for Stiles to tug his shirt off, exposing the black ink on his skin. 

He laid back down against the arm rest, and Derek shifted down a little more, so his chin could rest on Stiles' stomach if he wanted.

"This is a Celtic knot," he pointed a tattooed finger to his right bicep. "It was my first tattoo, and it really doesn't have much purpose."

His finger dropped down to his forearm. "This is a Vegvísir. It's a wayfinding symbol. The lines underneath are magical staves as well."

Derek watches his finger trace the lines from the Vegvísir down to his wrist. "A lot of them are overlapping, because I have small arms and couldnt get them all on, but they're different sigils for peace, healing, luck, health, and whatever else."

He used his other hand to point at the runes tattooed across his knuckles. He started from his pinky, working his way to his forefinger. "This one is Uruz, for strength, Algiz for protection, Eihwaz for defense, and Mannaz, for self."

He held both hands out to Derek, fisted with his knuckles facing forward. "Its the same on both hands."

Stiles continued to explain his tattoos; how the ones on his hips were different variants of protection runes. The matching tattoo on his left arm held the same runes, too many for Derek to count, and all with their own meaning. 

The moons on his chest was called a Tripple Moon. Derek traced his finger over the outlines, feeling the steady rise and fall of Stiles' chest as he spoke. 

"What does it mean?"

"Its a goddess symbol. Each person uses it for different deities."

"Which ones do you use it for?" Derek couldn't help but ask. He's never been a curious person. He never really needed to know unless it concerned him or his pack. Yet he wanted to know everything about Stiles -what every tattoo and piercing and facial feature meant. 

"Diana, Hecate and Artemis," Stiles said with a small smirk. Derek knew of them, but he wasn't familiar with what they represented. 

"Its all about threes," Stiles hums. Derek frowned at that, tilting his head to the side in question. He remembered his own tattoo, three spirals, for alpha, beta, omega. He remembered Satomi's mantra, sun, moon, truth. 

"Have you ever heard of the rule of three?" Stiles asked, fingers tapping an odd rhythm against Derek's shoulders. 

"'Ever mind the rule of three'," he quoted. "'Three times your acts return to thee. This lesson well, thou must learn, thou only gets what thee dost earn'."

"Is that the pagan version of the Golden rule?" Derek asked. Stiles chuckled, one hand moving from Derek's shoulder to his hair, playing with the dark strands. 

"It means whatever energy you put out into the world will return to you three times. Whether that energy is good or bad."

"The supernatural works a lot in threes," Derek muses, lowering his head to place an open mouthed kiss to Stiles' sternum. 

"It must be a lucky number," Stiles agreed. They were quiet for a while, Derek pressing open mouthed kisses to Stiles' chest, moving up and to the side. He kissed under Stiles' nipple, could feel the cool metal press into his cheek. 

He moved up, placing thr flat of his tongue against the piercing and pulling a shuddered breath from Stiles. His lips curled around Stiles' nipple, sucking on it and toying with the bar. 

"Jesus, Puppy," Stiles groaned out, one hand falling on the back of Derek's neck and squeezing.   
He moved further down, nose brushing against the soft outline of muscle on Stiles' torso. 

He sat up and shifted back a little, hands on Stiles' jeans. He pauses just enough to look up at Stiles. His pupils are dilated and he gives a nod of concent. 

Derek pops the button on his jeans, tugging the zipper down.   
His fingers curl around the waistband of both his pants and boxers, and Stiles lifts his hips when Derek pulls them down, bending his legs further so Derek can pull them past his feet and he drops them onto the floor by his discarded shirt.   
Derek looks down at him, pale mole spotted skin a contrast to the dark gray cushions of the couch. 

His cock is resting on his stomach, showing off his piercings wonderfully. 

Derek scoots back further on the couch, lowering himself until Stiles' thighs are tucked up under his armpits. 

Stiles watches silently, eyes catching every little movement. Derek would normally feel unnerved, having someone watch him so closely. Stiles was so comfortable with his nakedness. Even faced with Derek's mouth so close to his dick, Stiles didn't look nervous or antsy. He was waiting, Derek realized. Waiting to see what Derek did. 

Derek took his eyes off the brown eyed man and dropped them to his cock instead, a hand reaching for it. Derek counted the five bars pierced through the shaft. He couldn't imagine sitting theough that -and he was a werewolf. Stiles was on the human side of the supernatural. He bruised and got hurt. At least, Derek assumed he did. 

His thumb caught the bottom of the Prince Albert piercing. The metal ball poked through the underside of his head, the beginning coming out of the tip. Derek swallowed. 

"How do you function with that?" Derek found himself asking, finger brushing against the head, circling the metal ball poking through the urethra.   
Stiles laughed, humming as Derek circled the metal ball again. 

"Same as you do," Stiles said. "I still piss the same, it's just a little harder to control the stream."

"Why'd you get it?"

Stiles grinned a little, watching Derek's curious fingers play with the piercings. 

"I'm a masochist," he said. He let out a small noise from the back of his throat. "Now are you going to do something useful with those hands or just play with my jewelry?"

Derek leaned down, running thr flat of his tongue up the underside of his shaft, feeling each ridge of the bars of his piercings. The metal balls were cool against the sides of his tongue. Stiles let his head fall back against the arm rest. 

Derek reached the tip and wrapped his mouth around him, lowering his head to take as much of him in as he could. The metal clicked against his teeth. Stiles hummed. Derek pulled back and then surged forward again, tongue working thr head whenever he came back up. 

He placed a palm on Stiles' bony hip, the other hand working at the base of his cock. He pressed his thumb into the words on the inside of his thigh, high up his leg. 

He continued to work Stiles over, pulling the head of his dick to the back of Derek's throat before returning to the front. Stiles let out little noises -gasps, pants, little hums. Derek sucked, wanting to hear more. 

He knew Stiles was close by the way his body stiffened, his scent growing stronger. 

He kept his mouth on him, looking up through his lashes to take Stiles in. His shoulders were pushed back, opening up his chest beautifully. His mouth was parted, lips wet with spit from running his tongue over them, and his eyes pinched shut. 

He dropped his head back, chest puffing out as Derek pushed him over the edge. Stiles moaned lowly, mouth falling open a little wider. 

Derek was so focused on how Stiles unconsciously revealed every vulnerability to the 'wolf between his legs that Derek nearly choked on the cum that shot into his mouth. 

He swallowed each wave, pulling back so only the tip filled his mouth, his hand milking every last drop from Stiles.   
He pulled his mouth off when he felt the twinges of overstimulation, earning a hum from Stiles. 

"Come here," Stiles demanded breathlessly. Derek complied, careful not to brush against his softening cock. Stiles' arms lifted up to wrap around Derek's shoulders, pulling him down onto Stiles' mouth. Derek felt him lick into his mouth, chasing the taste of himself. When he pulled back, they were both breathing a little harsh. 

"This is the second time I've been underdressed in your company, Puppy," Stiles said, bumping his nose against Derek's. 

Derek huffed out a laugh, grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking it over his head. He drove back in to kiss Stiles' mouth again, feeling Stiles run his hands down his front to his jeans. 

"This is the third time we've fucked around in two days, and you haven't even taken me to dinner yet," Derek grunted out, rolling his hips into Stiles' palm.   
Stiles laughed a bit at that, tucking his hand into the band of his boxers and grabbing ahold of him tightly. 

"Sorry," he breathed, not sounding sorry at all. "I'm impatient."

Derek let out a groan as Stiles brought him close, long fingers working deftly to get him off in his boxers. 

"After you cum, I'll take you out," Stiles promised. It didn't take long for him to do just that. He soiled his boxers with a grunt, dull human nails digging into the cushions on either side of Stiles' head. 

Stiles pulled his hand out, slick with cum. Derek watched as Stiles zipped his pants, buttoning them with finality before placing a chaste kiss to Derek's parted lips. 

"Get your shirt on," Stiles ordered. Derek realized Stiles had no intention of letting Derek stop to change his boxers, and he let out a noise before climbing off Stiles to get his shirt. 

Stiles got up, dressing in his discarded clothes before grabbing his keys, wallet and phone. 

"Come on, Puppy. I'm actually really hungry." Derek followed, feeling his cum soaked through his underwear. He looked down at his crotch as he stepped into the hallway, thankful he was wearing dark jeans, and that he couldnt see an obvious wet spot.

Stiles smirked at him as he locked up, and Derek followed him down the hall. He should protest going to a diner with cum filled boxers, but he didn't -couldnt bring himself to do anything but follow Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've never written top Stiles before, and I'm having fun with it! I'm definitely stepping out of a comfort zone of sorts but it's so fun!!   
> Plus, soft Derek is becoming my favorite Derek!   
> How do you guys like it so far? Anything you'd want to see or any questions about what's happened so far? Let me know!!!


	5. Chapter 5

The diner wasn't crowded. Derek had been there once or twice, but each time he'd gone it had been loud with conversations coming from every booth and the stools. Derek had had to wait a few minutes for a table. 

Now though, Stiles walked in with Derek trailing behind him. He bypassed the counter, grinned at the cook before leading Derek to a book near the back. The conversations were low, ignorable. He could actually hear the diner music playing softly above them. 

Stiles stuck out like a sore thumb. The few people there were middle aged, though a few were younger -college age- but none of them looked like Stiles.   
Stiles with the black ink curling up the side of his neck, and down his exposed arms. With his jewellery decorating his face and ears. Derek knew there was more under his clothing that none of these people would ever see. 

Stiles didn't seem to mind the brief looks, the judgemental scoff from the middle aged woman sitting with her teenage kids. He just grinned at Derek, talking about his favorite breakfast food here. 

"Hey, honey, it's been a while."  
Derek looked up the same time Stiles did. The woman was a short and stocky brunette with a kind smile. 

"Yeah, I've been busy with school," Stiles grinned, waving his hand dismissively. It was a lie, but the woman just smiled, pen and paper in hand. 

"You're young," the woman said. "You should be wasting your time partying and having fun."

Stiles only huffed a laugh.  
  
"Who's your friend?"

"Ah, this is Derek," Stiles hummed. "My soulmate."

Derek felt his chest swell again. He gave a smile to the woman, who looked on the verge of tears and grinning so wide he was worried she'd split her face in half. 

"Oh my," she said, pulling another amused sound from Stiles. "That's so wonderful, dear. I'm so happy for you both."

Derek thanked her, Stiles grinned. After a minute to collect herself, the woman asked Derek what he'd want to eat. 

He ordered an everything burger with fries. Stiles aparently didnt need to order anything, because the woman just smiled at Stiles and left.  
  
"I always get the same thing," Stiles hummed, resting his arms on the table. 

"You a regular here?" Derek asked. He didnt need to, it was obvious in the way he nodded at the cook, how the waitress seemed too friendly with him when she stepped up. 

"I've been coming here since I was five," Stiles said. "Helen's been working here longer. Her and my mom used to be really close."

"Use to be?" Derek found himself asking. 

"Yeah, she died when I was eight," Stiles hummed. He didn't seem upset about it. There was no souring of his scent. Derek frowned anyway. His own mom died when he was sixteen. It didnt hurt anymore. Not the way it had. It was a dull numb ache that only turned sharp on the anniversary now. It must be the same for Stiles. 

"I'm sorry," Derek said. 

"Don't be, Puppy," Stiles smiled. A moment later, Helen returned with two glasses of water, and Derek's coffee. 

"My sister is coming to visit in a couple days," Derek found himself saying as they waited for their food. Stiles looked up from his water, cocking an eyebrow.  
  
"Yeah?"

Derek nodded. "She's in college. Studying Psychology. Its spring break for her, so she'll be here for two weeks."

"What does she want to do with her degree?"

The question knocked him off guard. No one ever asked anything about what Cora did. When he had mentioned her degree to the pack after Issac asked where she'd been her first year, they'd all hummed in acknowledgement and left it at that. 

"She wants to work with the supernatural, and supernatural adjacent," Derek said. He noticed Stiles lean forward a bit, all his attention undividedly on Derek. 

"You know, people need someone to talk to, work through their problems, and human psychologists only get half the story when it comes to the supernatural. Cora wants to make it so the supernatural and their human allies have someone to talk to." He ended it with a shrug of his shoulder and cleared his throat. 

It was the most he'd talk to someone he hadn't known before. He barely spoke that much to people he did. 

"That'd be awesome," Stiles said, just as Helen came by with their food. She left them to their bonding with a content smile on her face and a hand on Stiles' shoulder. 

"How much longer til she gets her degree?"

"She'll finish schooling in a year," Derek supplied, snatching the ketchup bottle from the end of the table to squeeze over his fries. 

"Does she know where she wants to work?"

"Here, probably," Derek said, squeezing the bottle over the pile of fries. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Stiles demanded, sounding appalled. Derek frowned, looking up at him. "You can't just put ketchup on your fries like that!"

The bottle was snatched from Derek's hand. "I bet you eat your oreos whole too, you freak."  
Derek's frown deepened. He watched Stiles push his fries to the side and squeeze a pile of ketchup onto his plate. 

"How else do you eat oreos?" Derek demanded, at a loss. Stiles looked up at him incredulously. 

"I'm mated to a fucking heathen," he gaped under his breath before putting the ketchup back. "You gotta eat the middle first."

Derek huffed out a noise that could've been a laugh if Stiles had said something funny. He didnt respond, and instead grabbed some fries with his two fingers and thumb. 

"What else do you do wrong? Bite the kitkat bar whole?"

This time, Derek did huff a laugh, and shoved the fries into his mouth. 

"See, now your fingers are covered in ketchup," Stiles hummed, grabbing for his own fries and dipping them into the red sauce before eating them.   
Derek picked up another small bundle of ketchup covered fries and ate them, his fingers coated in the sauce. Stiles gave a pained look, like it was physically painful to watch Derek eat fries.  
  
Derek only smirked, and sucked his thumb into his mouth. He preened when Stiles' eyes widened a little, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed. 

Derek pulled his thumb out with a wet suction noise before sucking on his forefinger, then his middle. All the while watching Stiles watch his mouth, his own lips slightly parted. 

When he finished, Stiles cleared his throat and went back to eating his own fries, shifting in his seat. Derek could smell the want wafting off him, and he smiled to himself as he went back to eating. 

"I don't bite the whole kitkat bar," Derek said. Stiles broke into a fit of laughter at that. 

They continued to eat with Stiles talking most. He talked about the other regulars, how Helen reacted to his piercings, how she had a cow when he showed up one morning with the skull on his neck, and how she warned him about the slippery slope tattoos were. 

By the end of the summer, Stiles showed up with two sleeves and more piercings. Stiles laughed as he recounted how Helen nearly fainted at the sight. 

Derek wasn't a silent listener -not like he normally was. He laughed and commented throughout his tales, and when Stiles turned the conversation towards him, Derek used his words. He wasn't as good a story teller as Stiles was, but he told him about how his uncle Peter was in Europe and had been for six years.

He spoke about his own tattoo, how his sister had complained about the process. Stiles even looked pained when Derek explained how he managed to keep the tattoo. 

"Why didn't you just use wolfsbane?" Stiles asked, blinking at him with a mix of horror and shock. 

"Wolfsbane?"

"Yeah," Stiles said before leaning forward. Derek noticed pretty quickly into their dinner that Stiles liked to use his hands while he spoke, flapping them this way and that, flip flopping them or wiggling his fingers. On especially exciting parts, his arms had a tendency to arch high above his head or out to his sides. 

"You mix a little of the oil into the ink and it keeps you from healing long enough that the tattoo sets," Stiles explained, using his hands to imitate mixing something, then gesturing his hands in a 'see?' gesture. 

"That works?" Derek asked.  
  
"Yeah, you've seen Scott's tattoo, havent you?" Derek nodded. "I made the ink for it."

"Where were you twelve years ago?" Derek demanded lightly. Stiles gave a small shrug, grinning. 

"I was terrorizing my sixth grade class and blissfully unaware of the supernatural."

And the conversations continued well after their food was gone and Helen had took away their plates. 

When they finally decided to leave, Stiles paid, and Derek left a few extra bills for the tip. 

"Thanks," Derek said once the two stepped outside. Derek's hands were in the pockets of his pants. "For dinner. It was nice."

Stiles grinned at him as they got into his Jeep. 

They talked more as they drove back to Stiles' apartment complex, the radio playing softly in the background. He parked next to Derek's Camero, the sun well past the horizon, leaving the sky a purplish blue. 

Stiles walked him to his side of the car, and Derek turned to face him, leaning against the door. Stiles easily moved into his space, hips pressing together as Stiles' hands grabbed at Derek's waist, brushing his nose against Derek's.

"You sure you don't want to stay the night?" Stiles asked, lips brushing against his jaw. 

"I can't," Derek breathed. He reached up to grab at Stiles' hands, pulling them between their chests and looking down at the long tattooed digits. He twisted their fingers together, thumbs brushing across skin. 

"Why not?" Stiles asked, sounding like a petulant child who wasn't getting his way. His frown turned to a smirk as he leaned forward, brushing his lips against Derek's ear. 

"You've shown me what you can do with your mouth. Let me show you what I can do with mine."

His tongue darted out, licking a line over the shell of Derek's ear and making him shiver, eyes flashing blue. Stiles pulled back with a smirk, fingers wiggling in Derek's hold, which had tightened. 

"I c-cant," he said again, swallowing thickly. "I've only got the one pair of pants, and I'm pretty sure my boxers have dried to my skin."  
  
Stiles' eyes brightened and he laughed, moving forward to kiss Derek's mouth. Derek kissed back. 

"Later then," Stiles said, pulling back. Derek nodded. He needed a shower, and although he liked Stiles and really really enjoyed his company, he thought this may be going a tad too fast. 

It hadn't even been 24 hours from their first meeting when Stiles jacked them both off in his kitchen, and in the two days following, they'd managed to fuck around two more times. Derek's never done anything sexual with anyone he's been with until they'd been on a couple dates, or had known each other for longer than a couple weeks. 

But he couldnt seem to control himself around Stiles. He didnt even have Stiles' phone number, for crying out loud!

"Can I get your number?" Derek found himself asking right as Stiles moved to step back. 

"Of course, Puppy," he grinned. Derek pulled his phone out of his back pocket, opening the contacts app before handing it to Stiles. 

He watched those bony spider leg fingers tap quickly across his phone screen, saving his contacts before sending a text to himself. Derek heard the vibrations in Stiles' pocket seconds later, and then Stiles was handing the phone back.   
Derek pocketed it. 

"Now, go shower," Stiles hummed, pressing another kiss to Derek's mouth. "I'm sure you're uncomfortable."

Derek rolled his eyes, but slipped into his car. Stiles was already walking to his building as Derek started the engine and peeled out of the driveway. 

He was showered and in fresh boxers, slipping into his bed when he got a text from Stiles. Derek opened it, his chest swelling and a smile breaking as he opened the message. 

_From Stiles S._   
_Good night, pretty little wolf_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of obsessed with Derek and Stiles in this book! I'm so used to reading and writing their dynamic with Derek being the top/dom, and Stiles being the sub/bottom. It's really fun writing this and finding a rhythm, and trying to keep Sriles and Derek's characters relatively themselves! 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think!!


	6. Chapter 6

The airport was crowded. People shouting for their friends, or for their plane to wait. Derek hung by the luggage claim, knowing that's where Cora would go first.

He was sitting beside an elderly woman with a book and a younger woman with a baby. Derek always hated people who thought it was a good idea to fly with children. Nobody wanted to spend the flight listening to your kid crying and screaming. 

He kept an eye out for his younger sister, and when the luggage ramp started rolling out people's bags, he caught her dark hair in the crowd. 

She was a short thing. She barely reached his shoulders, but she made up for it plenty. Derek stood up, making his way to her while she made her way to the luggage. 

"Cora!" He called out. She spun around and grinned, jumping into his arms when he was close enough to reach her. 

"I missed you," she grinned, scenting him. A low rumble filled Derek's chest as he rubbed his jaw against her cheek in return. 

"How was school?" Derek asked as they stepped apart. Cora snatched up her bag as it passed and then grabbed Derek's hand. 

"It was the worst," she groaned. "Classes are long and I took a morning class this semester on top of the classes I already had, so I could finish a little early, but it was a mistake."

"Doesnt every college kid say morning classes suck?" Derek asked, leading the two out of the airport and to the parking ramp. 

"Shut up," Cora growls, using their joint hands to push Derek in the side. 

"Your turn," Cora said. "What's happened to you while I've been gone? How's the pack?"

Derek took a moment to load Cora's bag into the back seat of the Camero. Cora slid into the passenger seat, knowing Derek would answer her once he was behind the wheel. 

And he did. He started the car and pulled out of the parking spot, paid the meter to get out of the ramp, and headed towards the highway. 

"The pack is the same as its always been," Derek finally said. Cora hummed in acknowledgment. Even before Stiles, the McCall pack wasn't the best. Four years ago, when Cora and Derek moved back, the pack was fresh out of high school, with more problems than any pack Derek had ever seen. 

But the Hales had needed a pack -after spending a lot of years traveling from pack to pack, they needed roots and a pack to call their own. And Scott had needed a seasoned 'wolf who knew what to do and how to teach them. 

Cora had applied for school in Montana, and a year later, she was gone. Derek stayed behind. He helped Scott with the occasional threat -taught the betas how to protect themselves. 

But they weren't the pack Cora and Derek needed. They weren't a family, didn't know the first thing about being a family. They showed up when Scott called, and didn't spend much time together. 

None of them scented each other or licked each others wounds. The betas never came to Scott when they needed, and Scott never relied on them unless absolutely necessary. 

They didn't smell like a pack, they didn't operate like a pack. It was why Cora chose Montana, instead of a college closer to Beacon Hills. And it was why -Derek assumed- he was the way he was with Stiles. 

"I found my soulmate," Derek said after a long while. She was the first person he told, and he was so glad he'd told her. 

"Really?" Cora asked, sounding behind excited as she jolted into an upright position, turning half in her seat to look at him fully. "Tell me all about them! Every detail, I wanna know!"

Derek laughed a little, not being able to help the smile that tugged on his lips. They had an hour drive before they reached Beacon Hills. 

"His name is Stiles," Derek started. "He's a Spark. Lives in town."

"Has he lived there long? How have you two not run into each other?"

"He's the Spark Scott told us about," Derek said. 

"Whoa," Cora breathed. "Is he okay? Is he safe?"

"He's not like Scott described him," Derek answered. "He's not a ruthless killing machine. He doesn't kill just because he can."

"Tell me about him," Cora demanded with a smile. "When did you meet? How long have you known?"

Derek told her. He told her about the hunters, how Stiles found him at their old home, spoke those three magical words, and took him home. Cora laughed when Derek told her his own words 'fuck me' were written on Stiles' skin -though he didn't tell her where. 

"You met him only five days ago?" Cora asked in surprise. Derek nodded. 

"I want to meet him," Cora said, just as they were passing into Beacon Hills. It was just reaching one in the morning. Derek frowned at the fact that it didn't feel like a territory. He never left much, so he didn't feel the difference, but he remembered when his mom had owned Beacon Hills, how stepping into the territory felt like opening the door in the middle of fall. 

"You can," Derek promised. "He's excited about you."

"Really?" 

"Yeah, I told him what you wanted to do once you finished school," Derek nodded. "Said he couldn't wait."

"I like him already!" She grinned. When they reached the building, Derek carried her bag up the stairs to the loft. 

"You finally got a TV!" Cora laughed. Derek just rolled his eyes and took her bag up the stairs to her room. 

He had gone grocery shopping the night before, and had cleaned a bit more. Cora followed him up and face planted into the bed beside her bag. 

"I miss this bed!" She growled, voice muffled from the pillow she had her face pressed into. 

"Just the bed?" Derek asked. 

"Come cuddle, I need sleep," Cora said, lifting her head up and rolling to her side. She held her arms out, doing grabby hands and Derek let out a put upon sigh before shoving her bag to the floor and crawling onto the bed with her. 

The two of them fell asleep in each others arms, nuzzling and scenting each other. Derek missed her, more than he thought he did. 

Neither of them woke up until noon the next day, and Cora didnt really wake up at all. She shuffled down the stairs with her eyes closed and flopped onto the couch and passed out again. 

Derek made breakfast -lunch?- and shook her awake. 

"Thanks," she grumbled, sitting up and taking the plate of eggs offered. Derek turned the TV on and the two ate in silence, Cora still waking up. She was not a morning person. 

"So I got a call from Malia the other day," Cora hummed after their breakfast-lunch. 

"Yeah? How's her and Peter's trip?"

"They've decided to spend a month in Italy," Cora grinned. "Said Peter fell in love with their architecture."

"Doesnt surprise me," Derek grinned back. Peter had a thing for architecture and statues.

Before the fire, he had been studying it. He had told Derek he was going to turn the Hale house into Beacon Hills' very own Palazzo Montecitorio. 

"They say hi, by the way," Cora continued. "And Peter wants to know if the building still has room for the two of them if they ever return."

"If?" Derek snorts. 

"Yeah, like I said," Cora shrugs. "He's in love."

The two spend the whole day together, catching up and scenting each other. It feels good to have someone to scent, and to be scented by someone else. 

He ignored his phone, though it didn't go off very much. It was close to eight when Cora started yawning again, blaming it on the jetlag. 

"I'm going to bed," she said, managing to sound even more tired than the night before. Derek hugged her, scented her and sent her on her way. 

Once alone, Derek moved from the couch to the other side of the loft to his bed. 

He liked the openness of the loft, how he could see his bed from the kitchen, could see the industrial barn door from his nest of blankets. He liked how the bed was tucked in the corner, pressed against the wall of windows. 

He stripped to his boxers, dropping into the comforter before snatching up his phone. He had a text from Scott -not apologizing, but asking when he'd show up for the next pack meeting- and one from Stiles. 

He grinned, reading the message. Stiles had hoped he had a good day with his sister, and had added a smily face at the end. 

He checked the time in the top corner of his screen, noting it wasnt even nine yet, and decided to call him. 

It took four rings before Stiles picked up. "Hello, Puppy." Derek couldn't help but smile at that, settling into his bed with a content sigh. 

"Hi," he responded softly. 

"How was your day?"

"Good," Derek said. "We didn't wake up until noon, and spent the whole day watching TV and cuddling and catching up."

"I'm glad." Derek could hear the smile on Stiles' face, which made Derek smile even more. God, he felt like a girl in a 90s romance movie -laying in bed with a stupid grin on his face, talking to a boy. 

"What about you?" Derek asked. "How was your day?"

"Oh, you know, had to sacrifice a baby to Adonis or Hades, or whoever the satanists are worshipping these days," Stiles hummed off hand. 

"I think satanists worship Satan," Derek supplied. 

"No wonder the ritual didn't work," Stiles grumbled. "Know anyone with a baby lying around?"

Derek couldnt help but laugh softly at that, settling further into the blankets. He heard shuffling at the other end of the phone, wondering if Stiles was in bed too. 

"Can I see you tomorrow?" Derek found himself asking. 

"Of course, Puppy," Stiles hummed. "Bring your sister, I want to meet her."

"She wants to meet you too," Derek said. "She's gonna talk your ear off about her psychology plan."

"I can't wait."

Derek's smile got impossibly wider, hearing the sincerity from Stiles' voice. His chest swelled and he turned his head into the pillow, nuzzling his face. 

"What are you doing over there, Puppy?" Stiles asked, sounding amused. Derek let out the smallest whine, huffing and pulling his face from the pillow.

"Just getting comfortable," Derek hummed, shifting again so he was on his side. 

"You're in bed?"

"Yeah," Derek said. "Cora's asleep upstairs, and it's too late to start anything, so I just decided to lay down."

"And call me," Stiles added. 

"And call you," Derek confirmed. 

"I'm glad you called," Stiles said. "I was getting a little bored."

"Why are you in bed?" Derek asked. "I can hear you shuffling in the sheets."

Stiles let out a huff of a laugh. "I got tossed around a little earlier," he confessed. "Decided to give my muscles a break."

"What happened?"

"Adonis doesn't like dead babies," Stiles deflected. 

"Stiles."

Stiles huffed at the other end of the phone. "I just got a little caught off guard by a hunter this morning. Nothing I couldnt handle."

"Are you hurt?" Derek asked, frowning as he sat up in bed. 

"Mostly my pride," Stiles hummed. "Don't worry, Puppy, I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Just a bruised shoulder and a busted lip. Nothing a kiss from you wont fix." 

"Can I come over?"

"In the morning," Stiles admonished softly. "You need to sleep, and I don't think Cora will be too happy when she wakes up and you're not there."

"You could come here," Derek tries. 

"But I'm already naked," Stiles complains, but Derek can hear the smirk playing at his lips. Derek let's out another soft whine at that -picturing Stiles in his sheets, tattoos, piercings and moles all out for anyone to see. 

"Are you picturing me naked, Puppy?" Stiles asks in amusement. Derek hums an affirmative sound, not bothering to lie. Stiles was his soulmate -he was allowed. His eyes flitted to the ceiling, where Cora was asleep above him. 

"You could be naked here," Derek says lowly. 

"Would you be naked with me?"

"Possibly," Derek hummed, shifting a bit as he got harder in his boxers. 

"I don't think your sister would approve," Stiles chuckled. Derek palmed at himself through his boxers. 

"We could be quiet," Derek said, pulling a laugh from Stiles again. 

"You could be quiet," Stiles corrected. "I've been known to be very vocal in bed."

Derek whined, reaching in his boxers to fist himself at the thought. He's never acted like this. He's never been so needy in his life, and Stiles knows it, based on the soft sound he makes. 

"Are you touching yourself?" Stiles asks, voice low. Derek doesn't respond, just tugs on his dick and let's out a breath. "Tell me when you're close, Puppy."

Derek let's out another whine, picking up the pace of his hand. He can hear Stiles on the other end, his breathing picking up. 

"Are you-" Derek cuts himself off when his thumb brushes over his head, collecting pre-cum. 

"You don't get to have all the fun," Stiles says through the phone, voice breathy. 

Derek continues to jerk himself off, whining at the words Stiles feeds through the phone, the moaning and gasping coming from his end. 

"I'm gonna-" Derek manages to say. It's so quiet he doesn't know if Stiles can hear him. 

"Good," Stiles moans. "Cum for me, Puppy."

Derek does. He grits his teeth as his balls draw up, releasing his load into his boxers. He let's out a breathy whimper, body stiffening. 

He can hear Stiles cum a few short seconds later, a stuttering moan leaving his lips. Derek can picture Stiles, chest open and head back as he rocks into his own hand. 

Derek pulls his hand out of his boxers, wiping his cum on the dark fabric as he pulls himself out of bed. 

"I'm a mess," Derek grumbles, feeling the puddle in his boxers as he moves to the small dresser near his bed. Its pressed against the wall near the head of his bed, next to the hole where Derek had been thrown through. 

"Yeah, I came all over my stomach," Stiles chuckled. "I should probably get up and shower, but I'm too tired."

"Are you going to sleep in it?" Derek asked incredulously, tugging out a pair of boxers before moving across the living room to the bathroom. 

When he first got the building, this room didnt have a bathroom or kitchen. He had to renovate a little. The kitchen was in the left corner of the room, by the industrial barn door, and the bathroom was through a second metal barn door -much smaller, and situated to the right of the spiral staircase. 

The room that would've been blocked off from the rest of the loft if Derek hadn't flown through it, lead to the balcony. You could get to the roof if you went up the spiral staircase. Derek had made sure the door couldn't open when Cora had decided to turn the space into her room. 

"Are you showering?" Stiles asked instead of answering Derek's question. 

"Yeah," Derek said, opening the barn door just enough for him to slip through before shutting it and locking it. 

"What time are you two gonna stop by in the morning?" Stiles asked, sounding like he was getting out of bed too. 

"Maybe ten?" Derek asked, turning the shower on and stepping out of his soiled boxers. 

"Okay, I'll be waiting," Stiles hummed. "Now shower and go to sleep, Puppy."

"Okay."

*-*

Derek drives Cora over to Stiles' apartment complex the next morning, thrumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He was anxious for more than one reason. 

He hoped Cora and Stiles liked each other. He wanted today to go well. He was also worried about Stiles. He had said he got roughed up, and Derek didnt know if he underplayed how serious it was or not. 

But he put on a front, and walked with Cora up the flights of stairs until they reached Stiles' floor. 

He knocked on his door, feeling antsy. "Calm down, Der. You're starting to smell."

Derek growled at her just as the door opened. "Hello, Puppy."

Derek stepped into the apartment, manners flying out the window as he took Stiles' face in his hands, thumb catching the split in his lip, right beside one of his piercings. 

"I'm Stiles," Stiles greets, unaffected by Derek's scrutiny. Cora shuts the door behind her while Derek moves his hands to Stiles' shirt collar, trying to see what state his shoulder was in. 

"I'm sorry," Cora said with a roll of her eyes. "He's been worried about you all morning." 

Stiles just grins, letting Derek move behind him and pull his collar down. No open wounds, but the skin was bruised near the acromion. 

"I'm Cora."

"Its nice to meet you," Stiles grins, before angling his head to look back at Derek. "How does it look, doctor?"

Derek huffs, dropping his shirt. Stiles grins and then turns back to Cora. "Are you guys hungry?"

"Starving," Cora grinned. 

Stiles turned, patting Derek on the shoulder as he passed. "I'll make eggs. You two sit."

They do. Derek watches Stiles, noting the way he favors his right shoulder. How his tongue laps at the cut on his lip, fiddles with the metal ring. 

"So," Cora says after a moment. "What are your intentions with my brother?"

Derek snaps his head to glare at Cora. Stiles laughs, using the spatula to break the egg yolks in the pan. 

"You don't have to answer that," Derek shoots at Stiles, growling low at Cora, who just rolls her eyes and looks at Stiles expectantly. 

"My intentions will scar you for life, Little Wolf," Stiles hums, sending a shit-eating grin her way. She makes a face. "But don't worry, he'll be fine."

"Well, I have some ground rules," Cora states. Stiles raises an eyebrow, smirking a little. Derek groans, dropping his head into his hands. 

"No sleepovers until I'm back at college," she starts. "And I don't want your lifestyle bleeding into his-" Derek shoots his head up, ready to snap at her. "-I don't want him coming home with metal in his face."

"Oh, no, I wouldn't dream of it," Stiles said, feigning a somber look as he plates the eggs. Derek hadn't noticed he'd made toast too. "He's much too pretty for jewelry." 

Stiles comes back with the three plates, sitting down at the round kitchen table between Cora and Derek. 

"He tried piercing his ears in high school," Cora grinned. "It wasn't a good look on him."

"Don't make me take you back to college," Derek threatened. "I'll leave you at the airport."

"Not everyone can pull off piercings," Stiles grinned, lifting his hand to pinch at Derek's earlobe. Derek swatted his hand away. Stiles turned back to Cora. "He'd look wonderful with ink, though."

"I can let ink slide," Cora hummed, sounding put upon. She was grinning though. "Maybe a tramp stamp."

"No one is getting a tramp stamp," Derek growled. 

"How do you know I dont have one?" Stiles asked, looking amused as he bit into his eggs. 

"Because I've seen your ass," Derek countered, making Cora choke on her bite of toast. "And that tree doesn't count."

Stiles just grins, wiggling his eyebrows. 

"You have a tree on your ass?" Cora asked, eyes wide. 

"Its on my back," Stiles corrected. 

"Can I see?"

"Cora, I swear to God," Derek groaned. It was looking like a mistake to bring her here. Especially this early in his and Stiles' relationship. The girl had no fucking filter. 

"No need to get embarrassed for me, Puppy," Stiles grinned. Derek grunted, and then Stiles was turning his back to Cora, and hiking his shirt up as best he could. Derek noticed the small wince when he moved his shoulder. 

"Wow, that's so cool," Cora gasped. "Its so detailed and big! How long did it take you to finish it?"

Stiles dropped his shirt, facing the table again. "We did it in three sessions. Each one took about four or five hours."

"Jesus."

The three finished their breakfast with Cora embarrassing Derek whenever she could, and Stiles touching him whenever he could. First it was the earlobe, then it was his hand resting on the table, a brush of spider leg fingers on his elbow, a palm to his knee. But his attention was focused on Cora as she talked about her school, what she planned, the steps she'd already started taking to get herself an office here in town. 

Then they moved to the small living room, where Cora sat in the small chair, leaving Derek and Stiles the couch. 

Stiles was leaning into him, back to Derek's side, legs drawn up onto the couch as he listened to Cora tell a story of college. 

"He snotted all over the dinner table," Cora huffed. "And none of us could order more food because the cafeteria was already closed."

"Poor guy," Stiles laughed. 

"No, not poor him, poor me," Cora frowned. "He chose to snort five pixie sticks at once, I didn't choose to skip lunch."

Derek rolled his eyes. He had heard this story after it had happened. Cora had been so mad she almost wolfed out. She had complained that it was nacho day, which only happened once a month and she had been looking forward to it. 

"I have to go to the bathroom," Derek mumbled, pushing at Stiles. Stiles had been slightly pressing his arm into his bladder, and he was about to explode. 

He pissed, washed his hands and stepped out to Cora sitting on the floor between Stiles' legs, while Stiles played with her hair. 

"I leave for ten seconds," he groans, flopping onto the couch with a huff. 

"Don't be a party pooper, Derek," Cora grinned. "Your boyfriend knows how to braid hair, and I'm taking full advantage of it."

"How did talking about pixie sticks turn to braiding hair in ten seconds?"

"She asked," Stiles grinned, his fingers looping the hair near the crown of her head. He momentarily lost focus on everything but the way his fingers deftly worked through Cora's hair, twisting and overlapping the tufts of hair with flicking wrists and curling fingers. 

"How do you know how to braid hair anyway?" Derek asked, pulling himself out of the trance his tattooed fingers caught him in. 

"Back in high school," Stiles said. "There were a couple girls in the pack. Being the GBF meant I had to take on the role of the back of the braiding train."

"What does GBF mean?"

"Der, seriously?" Cora grunted, making Stiles laugh. "GBF, you know? Gay best friend?"

"You're gay?"

"Oh my god!"

Stiles only grinned. "I'm definitely not straight," he grinned, giving Derek a once over. "Are you gay?"

"You guys seriously havent had this conversation?" Cora asked, sounding appalled. 

Derek kicked her hip from where he sat, earning a growl from his younger sister. 

"What about you, Little Wolf?" Stiles hummed, tugging at her half braided hair. 

"I don't have a label," Cora shrugged. "I like who I like."

"Good for you," he grinned. Derek couldnt help but grin too.

Too many times people tried to put a label on Cora for their own understanding. Tried to pressure her into picking a label. Asking if she was bisexual, then pansexual. Derek hated how Cora would stumble for the right way to say it, to explain. 

She didnt have to with Stiles, and it made Derek extremely happy. He leaned forward, catching Stiles' mouth when the Spark turned to look at him. 

"Please for the love of everything holy, keep it PG."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly so happy you guys are liking the dynamic between Stiles and Derek in this story! I added in Cora, but I'm not sure how well she's going to fit in the beginning. I know they become very close at some point but if it feels a little forced just know kinks will be worked out!!
> 
> Also, let me know what you guys think!! And if any of you are reading the Fox and the Hound, please know it's taking me longer to update it because the chapters are a little over twice as long as I normally write! But don't worry, I'm halfway done with the next chapter of that book!


	7. Chapter 7

Derek and Cora ended up spending nearly half of Cora's spring break with Stiles. The three of them usually stayed at Stiles' place, watching shows, playing cards or talking. 

Sometimes they'd go into town for dinner at the diner Helen works at. When the Hales weren't at Stiles' they were in the loft, or Cora was out with old friends. 

It was nice. Derek couldn't be happier that Stiles and Cora got on so well. Scott had them come to pack meetings when they could, and Cora and Boyd had a touching little reunion, where Boyd showed actual emotion. 

Boyd was worse than Derek in that sense. Even when he smiled he looked dead. 

"They set up more traps," Scott scowled. He didn't look at all intimidating. "And they're getting bolder."

"Yeah, well what do you expect?" Cora snapped, arms folded over her chest as she stood beside Derek and Boyd. "You let them into your territory. They've been here for what, three weeks? And you expect them not to get comfortable?"

"She's got a point," Issac mumbled. 

"We don't even know who they are or how many of them there are," Scott huffed. "We can't just attack blindly."

"If you did your job when they first got here, you wouldnt have an infestation," Cora continued. Derek crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. He didnt come to Scott's aid when he turned to look at Derek. 

He was on Cora's side. If this had been Hale territory -like it had been so many years ago- those hunters wouldnt have been able to step foot over the boarder before they were met with 'wolves. 

"Can we not fight over this right now?" Scott demanded. "We have to do something about the hunters."

"Kill them," Derek supplied easily -like he was suggesting a walk through town. 

"We're not killing people, Derek!" Scott exclaimed. Derek huffed and rolled his eyes. "And don't think I can't smell Stiles on you either. I thought I told you he's dangerous."

"And I thought I told you to mind your own fucking God damn business," Derek growled, stepping from the wall. 

Cora's hand to his chest stopped him from going any further. He dropped back into the wall with an indignant huff. 

"Stiles isn't any more dangerous than any of us," Cora snapped, eyeing Scott. 

"That's not true," Erica scowled. "You weren't there. Neither of you were."

"Well, we're here now," Cora growled. Derek kept quiet. 

"He's just manipulating you two," Scott shouted, arm out before slapping it against his leg. "Can't you see that? That's what he does! He twists the truth and he lies."

"Soul marks don't lie," Derek growled, silencing the room. He stepped off the wall, and this time, Cora didnt stop him. "Now, I'm not going to sit around here and waste my time."

Before Scott can say anything else, Derek walks out, leaving everyone stunned. 

"Is he really mated to Stiles?" Issac asked just as Derek walked through the front door. Cora was on his heels, sliding into the passenger seat. 

The two were silent as Derek started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. 

"We should really consider finding a new pack," Cora sighed. Derek had to agree with her, but he didn't voice it. Instead, he drove them through town. 

"I think I'm going to see a movie with Chase," Cora said after a moment. "Can I take your car?"

"Yeah, I'll be at Stiles'."

He hadn't asked ahead of time, but Stiles had said he wouldnt mind. Cora nodded, not saying anything about it. When Derek got to his complex, the two got out, Cora taking his seat and Derek heading upstairs. 

He knocked on the door, frowning when it swung open. The latch hadn't caught. "Stiles?"

"In the kitchen."

"Your door wasn't shut," Derek said, stepping in and shutting it firmly. He wrinkled his nose at the harsh smell of herbs. "What are you doing?"

"Working," Stiles hummed, stirring brown liquid in a saucepan. The kitchen was a mess of herbs and glass bottles and oils. He recognized some of the bundles from the ceiling in his bedroom. 

"On what?" Derek asked, moving a chair from the table to sit in. 

"Its not for you, Puppy," Stiles smiled, turning off the burner and moving to the cooled oil by the little glass bottles. "I make these for the witch community, and the anti-vaxxers -surprisingly."

Derek frowned a bit, watching as Stiles funneled the oil into each of the glasses. 

"Anti-vaxxers?"

"Yeah, you know. The moms who think they can keep their kids from getting polio by bathing them in lavender oil?"

"You make essential oils?" 

"Among other things," Stiles said. "Witches like their oils and their rocks. I sell more oils than anything else."

"What else do you make?"

"Potions, antidotes, poisons."

"Why?"

Stiles filled each of the glasses with the cooled oil that smelled like sage and lavender and then added corks to them. 

"I gotta pay for my apartment somehow," he said with a shrug to one shoulder. "Plus, there's never a shortage of people who need antidotes."

Derek hums, resting his arms on the counter and setting his chin down on top. He watches Stiles work, the whole apartment smelling strongly of herbs and making Derek's nose itch. 

Once all of the oil is put into glass vials and the corks are put in, Stiles labels them with a pen. 

"Can you go into my room, in my closet, and get me the shoe box?"

Derek nodded, standing to his feet and headed for the bedroom. He finds multiple shoe boxes on the floor under his clothes, stacked six high and spanning the width of the back wall. He scowls at them before reaching for the odd one in front. 

Its empty. He snatches it up and takes it back to Stiles, who smiles and starts adding the new glasses inside. 

"How often do you make everything?" Derek asked, watching Stiles close the lid. 

"I spend one day a week making a bit of everything just to keep stocked."

Derek watches with fascination as Stiles' eyes go white, the smell of ozone taking over the petrichor of Stiles' scent. Stiles ran his fingers along the edge of the box lid, eyes unseeingly staring forward. 

He pulled his fingers back, and those honey whiskey brown eyes blinked back. He let out a huff before picking up the box. 

"What did you do?"

"Sealed the box," Stiles grinned, heading for the bedroom. Derek followed, nearly stepping on his heels as Stiles set the box with the others. 

"What else can you do?" Derek asked. He'd only associated Stiles' powers with destruction and violence -though he hadn't even seen that yet.

"Lots of things," Stiles huffed, closing the closet door. "Its easier to ask what I can't do."

"Then what can't you do?" Derek asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. Stiles followed suit, flopping down with a grunt, arms spread wide on the bed beside him, legs dangling off the side. 

"I can't shape shift, or breathe under water," Stiles said. "No talking to the dead, no immortality or advanced healing."

Derek turned, crossing his legs so he faced Stiles, who ticked off on his fingers -arm raised over his head now. 

"I guess if I tried hard enough I could heal myself, but that takes a lot out of the reserve," he huffs. "No talking to animals -though I have an affinity for nature- and no clairvoyancy."

"Can you show me?" Derek asked. Stiles raised an eyebrow, huffed a put upon groan and smirked before nodding. 

"If I have to," he hummed. Derek watched his eyes go white again, a look of concentration crossing his features before that ozone scent filled the air. 

Seconds later, Stiles disappeared. Derek jolted, frowning as he looked around the room. 

"Stiles?"

A second later, the scent of ozone was back and the bed dipped. Derek looked over to see Stiles' eyes blinking back to color. 

"What the fuck did you do?" Derek breathed. 

"Teleported," he said with a shrug and a grin. "Just to your car and back. Here."

Stiles tossed him the air freshener from his mirror.

"You learned how to do all this in four years?"

"I started learning my junior year," Stiles said. "Perfected it about a year ago."

"You're incredible," he breathed, setting the air freshener down and moving to Stiles, who grinned. 

"Wanna see what's really incredible?" He asked, allowing Derek to move into his space. 

Before Derek can answer, Stiles gets onto his knees, pushing Derek's shoulders until he's sitting down again and straddling him. 

Derek curled his arms around Stiles' hips, pulling him close so their fronts are pressed together. 

Stiles presses a quick kiss to Derek's mouth, chuckling when Derek leans forward after they part. "Give me your hand."

Derek does without thought, allowing Stiles' fingers to curl around his wrist and bring it to his mouth. 

He places soft kisses to the soft side of his wrist, moving up his arm and reaching the meaty part just below his elbow. 

"You're not gonna suck my blood, are you?" Derek asked. Stiles grinned, placing another kiss to the inside of his arm. 

"Do you trust me?" Stiles asked, eyes going white again. Derek feels his heart skip a beat, but he finds himself nodding ever so slightly. 

"Lay down for me, Puppy."

Derek does, Stiles still straddling his lap. Stiles' eyes are still whited out, causing Derek to swallow thickly as Stiles leaned down, lifting his shirt up. 

Derek let's one of his hands hold Stiles' side, allowing Stiles to push his shirt up under his arm, and then his lips are on Derek's ribs, kissing and biting at the skin under his nipple. 

Derek hums softly, a low rumble in his chest. Stiles smirks against his skin, continuing to bite and kiss and lick at his skin until the area is raw and sensitive. 

When he pulls away, his eyes go back to normal, and he smirks down at Derek's chest. "Ta-da!"

Derek frowns and lifts his head, looking at the glistening spot under his nipple, where a splotchy red spot was. 

"What did you do?"

"Gave you a hickey," Stiles grins. Derek's frown deepens as he continues to look at it, the color not fading. He poked at it with his finger, feeling the slight pain there. 

"Its not going away," Derek said unnecessarily. 

"It wont," Stiles hummed, running his own tattooed fingers gently across the mark. "I willed it to stay."

"You can do that?"

Stiles nodded. "I can't ever heal people," he said, his smile fading. "But I can hurt them. Mark them with bruises and make them stay for days if I want to."

Derek looks back down at the hickey. "I just had to dial it back a lot, and you got yourself a hickey," he said, giving a small half smile. 

"Can you do it again?" Derek asked softly, hands on Stiles' sides tightening. Stiles nods and flowers himself again, this time tucking his face in Derek's neck. 

"Has anyone given you a hickey before?" Stiles asked against his skin. Derek shook his head. People had tried, but the Mark's never stayed. 

He angled his head to give Stiles more room, moving his hands under Stiles' shirt to trace over his skin. 

Derek goes home with four hickeys. Two on his neck, one on his ribs, and one on his groin. That one was Derek's favorite. It lead to the best blow job Derek thinks hes ever had. 

Cora made sure to complain about the smell of sex on him the whole drive home, but Derek didn't care. His fingers brushed against the small patchwork of bruised, smiling softly at the light stinging. 

Now he knew why humans liked them so much. He made sure to leave a couple on Stiles' throat too, high up on his jaw, down low on his hip, one on his collarbone. 

When the two reached the loft, Derek's good mood plummeted. He smelled an unknown scent. Cora climbed out of the drivers side, and before Derek could usher her inside, she grunted. 

Derek spun around to face her, seeing a hunter instead. He growled, ready to charge when something hit him in the back of the head. 

He blinked his eyes at the rush, stumbling to his hands and knees. A quick shake of his head got the dizzy feeling to go away, but then another hit to the base of his skull pitched his world black. 

*-*

Derek felt like he was too heavy and weightless all at once. His head throbbed in a painful numbness that had him grunting softly as he came to. 

His eyelids felt heavy, and he wanted to keep them shut forever, even though he felt like his eyes would roll back if he didnt. His head felt too heavy on his neck, his arms too light attached to his sides. No, not his sides. They were pinned up near his head. 

Derek blinked his eyes open, taking in his feet and the ground. His chin was pressed into his chest. His feet barely touched the ground. He lifted his head slowly, feeling a rush he only got when he dropped on a roller coaster. 

He took in the room he was in. It looked like an abandoned office building. Cubicle walls were stacked against the wall to his left, a mix of office chairs in the corner. He looked outside and realized he was pretty high up in the building, sixth or seventh floor. 

He saw elevator doors, but knew they were inoperational. Beside the elevator doors was a door leading to the stairway. He looked more to the right, seeing desks stacked on top of each other near what Derek assumed were office rooms for the higher ups. 

Derek pointed his toes, getting a better grip on the floor and turning himself around. The back of the office wasn't much different, except for Cora, who was hanging by her arms like Derek, unconscious. 

"Cora," he called lowly. "Hey, Cora wake up."

She moaned and blinked her eyes open, growing frantic as she came to, taking in the office room before her eyes landed on Derek. 

"Where are we?" She asked, looking up at her wrists. It looked like they'd been shackled in iron cuffs, chains looping around a support beam in the ceiling. 

"I think we're still in Beacon Hills," Derek said, giving the chains an experimental tug. "I think this was the old tech company building."

"What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know," Derek grunted, scowling up at his bound wrists. He gripped the chains, pulling himself up with shaky arms. 

His legs kicked with every grab of the chains until he was at the support beam. He grabbed onto it, breathing hard, and looked for a way to break thr chain. 

"Uh," Derek blinked. "There's electrical wires."

He could smell Cora grow nervous. The wires were stripped and curled around the chains, exposed copper held down with electrical tape. 

Derek followed the wire, which lead to Cora's chains, and continued on across the support beam, then down to the ground, where four battery packs and an electric shock machine that looked like it was altered. It was a familiar set up, and Derek growled. 

"Someone's coming," Cora warned, her scowl directed behind Derek to the stairwell. Derek could hear the footsteps echoing through the empty hall, and growled again. He couldn't tell how many. 

He had just lowered himself on the chains when the door opened and four men walked in, fanning out as they walked into the room. 

"Ah, you're awake," one grinned. He was a red head with dark eyes. Derek growled at him as the men approached. "That'll make this a lot easier on us."

"What do you want?" Cora demanded, eyes flashing yellow. One of the men sat on the batteries, hunched over while he fiddled with the electric shock box.

"We want your alpha," the red head supplied easily. 

"You think we're just going to roll over and give him to you?" Derek spat, eyes flashing blue. The red head grinned, like he expected Derek to say that, and was excited. 

"No, not at all," the red head said. "'Wolves are too loyal. That's why I brought Dean."

The read head nods his head over his shoulder, to the man sitting on the batteries. He was short, dark hair shorn close to his head and blue eyes. He grinned and twirled his fingers in a wave. 

"You think a little electricity is gonna scare us?" Cora growled. Derek eyed the two other hunters, a dark skinned man with white hair and a matching beard, both cut short, and a younger man -possibly Derek's age- with almost white hair and grey eyes. His skin was too light, like he didnt get enough sun, but Derek noticed the muscle. The man wasnt helpless. 

"I think it'll break you," red head said, looking delighted. "Did you know electricity is the only thing that can debilitate every supernatural creature across the board?"

Derek growled at the threat, eyeing Dean as he hunched over his knees. 

"There's something about it," he hummed. "Vampires, witches, ghouls, werewolves. Even fairies. They just can't handle it."

"Why don't we trade places," Derek growled. "See if humans can handle it."

Red head chuckled, and then nodded once to Dean. Before Derek could do anything but inhale, Dean turned the electricity on. He felt it move from his wrists down to his toes, locking his muscles up. Cora let out a strained whine beside him. 

After five seconds -it felt longer- thr electricity turned off and Derek's muscles uncramped. He gasped for breath through his nose, glaring at red head. 

"That's just the lowest level, and already, you're weaker," red head spoke, grinning like the kid who realized stepping on ants sent them into a hysterical run for safety. 

"I don't care how long it takes for you two to break," red head continued. "I've got all the time in the world."

Derek growled, eyes flashing blue, but then Dean turned the electricity back on and he was immobilized with the current running through every muscle, making his bones feel as brittle as glass and his teeth clench.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this long note but I'm so mad and honestly I have no one to talk to about it. I've been being harassed lately. I'm asexual aromantic and nonbinary, and I work as a senior care giver. This past week I've been told multiple times I need to widen my vocabulary to "please my husband". I can't say "cool" or "neat" without getting a lecture on how my husband will feel about it. And I've told this woman I dont want to get married, that I'm not into relationships and she tells me "not yet! You'll find a husband and fall in love and have sex and you'll call me and tell me and I'll say "I told you so".   
> And I cant exactly tell this woman I'm aro/ace, because shes in her 80s and wont understand, and no matter how many times I tell her relationships and sex arent for me she continues to tell me "you may not like them yet but wait until your older."  
> And to top it off, my identity is constantly being invalidated because I was sexually assaulted when I was a kid. I dont get to identify the way i want to because my family and the people i work with dont agree with it. And this woman bringing all of this up is really fucking with me. I'm so fucking depressed and angry about it. 
> 
> Sorry for the rant. I dont expect anyone to care that much I just really needed to put it out there. I'll probably delete the note soon anyways.


	8. Chapter 8

Derek woke up to Cora screaming beside him. He jerked awake, growling as he snapped teeth at the hunter who had a knife at Cora's arm. It was the pale one. 

Blood dripped down into her arm pit, soaking into her shirt. Derek's own shirt was torn to shreds and covered in blood and bits of flesh. The steady stream of electricity coursing through them both kept them from healing, and Derek could feel the blood dripping slowly down his chest. 

"Patience, 'wolf," the man smirked, pulling the knife from Cora's arm and turning his head to look at him. "You'll get your turn."

"I'm going to kill you," Derek managed to grit out between his teeth. The man took a step from Cora, turning to fully face Derek as he growled lowly. 

His nearly colorless eyes held no emotion, even as his scent conveyed pleasure and amusement. It put Derek more on edge than he already was. 

"That's big talk for such a little man," the hunter grinned, teeth just as white as everything else. He almost looked fake -like an exaggerated picture of a ghost. 

"No-" Cora's pained shout was cut off with an inhale as the hunter buried the knife hilt deep in Derek's chest, right between his ribs and puncturing his lung. 

Derek gasped, eyes wide as he looked down at the hilt. He could feel his lung collapse, filling with blood and he coughed. 

"Derek! Derek, hey, you're okay," Cora spoke in a frantic voice. Derek coughed again, blood coating his lips as the hunter chuckled. 

"Why don't you tell us who the alpha is, and I can make this all go away."

"Fuck you," Derek managed, more blood filling his mouth as he struggled to breathe. Dean at the control turned the electricity up, causing both Cora and Derek to shake and grunt and cry in pain. 

"If you don't tell us," the hunter snapped once the power was lowered again. Derek could barely suck in a breath. "Then someone else from your pack will."

"Bite me," Cora bit out. Derek was having a hard time focusing on anything but his breathing. He coughed again, spitting blood and black onto the floor by his feet. The blade had been laced. 

He managed to look up, noting Cora's wounds also had black oozing from them along with her blood. 

Just then, there was a commotion at the stairwell, and the door swung open, slamming against the wall with a loud bang. Derek blinked. 

The red head and the older black hunter were yanking at a struggling Stiles. 

"Who's this?" The white haired hunter in front of Cora asked, stepping back from them both to look at Stiles. 

"Found him sneaking around."

"Stiles," Derek gasped, his breathing short and labored with the knife lodged in his chest. 

Stiles lifted his head, and Derek caught sight of a forming bruise under his left eye. His nose was bleeding. 

Stiles was glaring, taking in Derek, then Cora before the red head shoved him into one of the office chairs. His hands were bound at the wrist with a zip tie. 

"You know these two?" Red head asked, pointing to Derek and Cora with a serrated knife. Stiles eyed the knife as it passed back and forth. 

"Yeah," Stiles said evenly, leaning back in the chair and wincing. Derek wondered if they'd hurt him anywhere else. "That one's my soulmate, the other is his sister."

Red head looked at the two chained up, and Cora growled at him. He was grinning as he turned back to Stiles, and Derek let out a whine. 

"And who are you?"

"I'm the rescue party," Stiles said, this time smiling. There was blood on his teeth from his nose. The blood dripped over his chin and onto his shirt. It made him look feral as he looked up at the red head. 

"You?" The red head laughed. "What are you gonna do?"

"Hurt my wolves again and you'll find out," Stiles threatened, smile gone. 

"Your wolves?" Red belly laughed at that, looking at the other hunters in amusement. They all chuckled too. 

"Yes, my wolves," Stiles ground out. "You have two choices. Let them go and die quick, or piss me off more than you already have and die slow."

The red head laughed again, not taking Stiles seriously. Derek tried to take breaths, the knife shifting every time he breathed. He coughed again, blood dribbling from his parted lips. 

"Tough talk for a kid," the white haired hunter chuckled. 

"I'm twenty-three," Stiles corrected. "And trust me, my bite is worse than my bark."

Derek felt the knife shift in his chest and a growling whimper left his mouth. The knife was pulled out, and when Derek looked up again, he saw Stiles' eyes were white, and the hunters looked uneasy. 

The knife soared through the air, embedding itself between Dean's eyes. He toppled over without a sound. 

"What the fuck."

Stiles snapped the zip tie off of his wrists and stood up. Red head pulled a gun and Stiles shot his hand out, grabbing the barrel and lifting the gun just as a shot rang out by Stiles' head, the bullet embedding itself into the ceiling above them. 

Stiles' eyes flashed back to normal as he winced, head turning to the side before he shoved his other hand forward, palm to chest, sending the red head across the room. 

Stiles dropped the gun and turned to the white haired man. "What the fuck are you?"

Stiles didnt respond. He grabbed the white haired man by the throat, spinning them both around just as the black man fired at them. The bullet lodged itself in the hunter's back, and Stiles dropped him before lifting his hand. 

Derek's eyes widened when electricity shot from his fingertips, the energy cracking through the air and connecting with the last hunter. 

The force pushed him all the way across the room, and he fell through the drywall, but Stiles didn't stop until Derek could smell burned flesh. 

When he turned back to face Derek and Cora, his eyes were back to normal, though he looked murderous. Blood was still dripping from his nose, and from his right ear too. 

He dropped down to the white haired man on the floor by Cora's feet, turning him over and grabbing him by the collar. 

"How many more of you are there?" Stiles demanded. 

"No one," the hunter gasped. 

Stiles shook him. "Who else."

"He's telling the truth."

All heads looked to the stairwell. Scott was there, with Issac, Boyd and Erica. Stiles stood up, glaring at them all. 

"Nice of you to finally join us," Stiles snapped. Derek noticed the white haired hunter trying to crawl away, but Stiles noticed too. His eyes turned white and he held his hand out to him, curling his fingers in towards his palm. 

The man started choking, wheezing. 

"Stop!" Scott started forward, but Stiles snapped his head up. 

"Why don't you stop worrying about the hunters and take care of your pack?" Stiles snapped, not releasing his hold on the hunter until he stopped moving. 

"Did you do this?" Issac asked, looking around at the bodies on the ground. Stiles just rolled his eyes before walking over to the electric shock machine. 

Once he switched it off, Derek and Cora sagged in their chains, both finally managing to take in a breath. 

"Don't look so surprised, Issac," Stiles snapped. 

"What are you doing here?" Scott demanded. Stiles moved to Cora, reaching up to pull the thick nail that held the cuffs together. Her arm dropped to her side, and he held her up with one arm while he uncuffed her other. 

"Your job," Stiles snapped, allowing Cora to lean against him. 

"You killed them!"

"And they would've killed Derek and Cora!" Stiles snapped back. 

"You murdered them!" Scott pushed, eyes flashing red. "This wasn't self defense, look at them!"

Stiles eyes went white. Cora got her footing and stepped back, moving to help Derek down. 

"A thank you every once in a while would be nice," Stiles glared. 

"You want a thank you?" Scott scoffed. Boyd moved over to help get Derek down when Cora couldnt quite reach. "We were handling it."

Stiles scoffed. "Just like you handle everything else."

Once Derek was down, he stepped away from Boyd, curling an arm around Cora and holding her close. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Stiles."

Stiles turned his murderous eyes from Scott to Derek, the honey whiskey color instantly softening when he looked at him. It made Derek's heart skip. 

He walked over to them, ignoring the way Scott and the other betas looked ready to attack him. 

Instead, he lifted his hands to smooth over Derek's jaw and Cora's shoulder. "Are you okay?" He asked, voice low and soft. 

"We're okay," Cora smiled. 

"Stiles, get away from them," Scott growled. Stiles' soft expression hardened again as he turned his head to look at the pack. They wanted to attack -Derek saw it in the way they tensed, stepped forward and growled. But they wouldnt. Not when Derek and Cora were so close. 

"Or what?" Stiles asked, his hands never leaving Derek and Cora. Cora's own hand was fisted in the blood soaked fabric of his shirt. 

"Don't make me hurt you," Scott snapped. Derek could see the faintest hint of desperation in his features, but he was also mad. 

"Too late for that, Scotty," Stiles said. He turned back to Derek and Cora, looking at both of them. "I'm going to take you home, okay?"

"Stiles, don't!" Erica snapped. Derek and Cora just nodded at Stiles, and his eyes flashed white, the petrichor and ozone smell infiltrating Derek's nose, electricity cracking the air around them, before the three of them were standing in Stiles' living room. 

"Both of you, sit down," Sriles ordered, storming into his bedroom. Derek stumbled into the couch, wincing as black and blood stained the fabric. 

Cora was fairing much better. Derek had made sure he got the brunt of it. When Stiles returned, he was holding a small wooden chest. He set it on the coffee table and flipped the lid open. 

Stiles grabbed a vial of purple liquid and handed it to Cora. "Its anti-poison."

He didnt wait for her to drink it before grabbing another bottle and handing it to Derek. He took it, popping the cork and emptying the bottle into his mouth. 

It tasted like wolfsbane with something else, and he coughed. Cora did the same, and then Stiles was taking a wide and shallow tin of paste. He dug his fingers into it, applying it to Cora's cuts first, then Derek's. 

"What's that?"

"It'll help." Was all Stiles said. Derek dropped his head down onto the back of the couch, feeling his body and the anti-poison working to heal him. 

"There are clothes in my room, and the shower is easy to use," Stiles said after a moment, turning to look at Cora. "If you'd like to clean up further."

"Is he going to be okay?" Cora asked. Derek felt Stiles' soft touch on the two inch cut on his chest, smearing the paste over it. Black and blood smeared with it. 

"He's going to be alright," Stiles nodded. Derek watched Cora walk to the bathroom, then closed his eyes again, his body exhausted. 

"How'd you find us?" Derek asked when Stiles put the lid back on the tin. His voice was soft, quiet. Stiles put the tin in the box and closed it. 

"Stiles."

"Hmm?"

Derek frowned and managed to sit up, grabbing Stiles by the side of the neck, fingers brushing against the skull tattoo covered in blood. 

His cheek was getting darker, swelling up. Derek looked him over, Stiles sitting there letting him. 

"You didn't hear me," Derek said with a frown. He searched Stiles through his fingers, finding pain. His frown deepened. 

"None of that," Stiles scowled, pulling his neck from Derek's hand, where the beginnings of black veins ran up his wrist. 

"You're hurt."

"So are you," Stiles said, standing up from the coffee table. "You don't need to take my pain."

"That gun," Derek scowled, causing Stiles to stop his walk to return the box to his room. "It went off by your ear."

"It'll be okay in the morning," Stiles said. "Its still ringing." He walked into his room and Derek frowned. Stiles hadn't lied, but he didnt sound like he was telling the truth. 

He wasn't familiar with the human body, but he was sure blood in the ear didn't mean an overnight recovery. But he didnt know if it meant permanent hearing loss either. 

Derek got up, his body mostly healed, and followed after Stiles. He was kneeling beside his bed, shoving the box under with a wince. 

"Do you want to find us some clean clothes?" Stiles asked, using the bed ro help himself stand back up. 

Derek nodded and moved to the dresser, opening drawers and pulling out clothes. He found sweats and two tshirts -they wouldnt fit Derek, but he could use them until he got to the loft. 

Cora stepped out of the bathroom in a pair of Stiles' running shorts and a graphic tshirt. 

"Are you tired?" Stiles asked, stepping around Derek. Cora nodded a little and Stiles made his way to the living room. 

Derek watched as Stiles grabbed a blanket from the small chair and grabbed a pillow from behind it. 

He made up the couch for her, and Derek couldnt help but feel a fluttering in his stomach. Stiles was worrying for his sister -taking care of her. 

When Cora was settled, and Stiles had promised to make them all something to eat in the morning, and that Cora could raid his kitchen if she needed, he walked back to Derek. 

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said softly, taking Derek by the hand and leading him into the bathroom. Derek took off what was left of his shirt, dropping it into the trash can by the toilet while Stiles turned the shower on. 

"How did you find us?" Derek asked, looking at Stiles to make sure he heard. 

Stiles glanced over at him and shrugged, peeling his own shirt off and throwing it in the trash. "I spent all day looking in abandoned buildings and hotels and spotted the red head."

With his shirt gone, Derek could see the beginnings of a bruise on Stiles' side, and he reached forward to brush his fingers across the skin. 

"Did they kick you?"

"I've had worse, Puppy," Stiles deflected, taking Derek's hand in his. He brought it up to his mouth, kissing Derek's knuckles. "I'm just glad you're both okay now."

Derek pulled his hand back and stepped forward, pressing his face into Stiles' neck and curling his arms around him. 

Stiles hugged him back, not caring about the blood and black still caked to Derek's skin. The two of them pulled away, and Stiles helped Derek with his jeans and boxers before pulling the curtain back. 

"Get in," he nodded. Derek did as he was told. Stiles left the curtain open as he rummaged under his sink for a wash cloth. 

Derek stayed silent as Stiles used soap and washed at his chest, taking special care to clean his skin from his shoulders to his hips. 

"I haven't been washed since I was five," Derek said, making Stiles chuckle as he washed Derek's lower legs and feet before standing back up. 

"Turn around."

When he did, Stiles got to work washing his back. He moved low, running thr cloth over his ass, down the back of his thighs. 

"Get your hair wet for me, Puppy."

Again, Derek did as he was told, and then Stiles was rubbing his shampoo into his hair, using his nails to scratch it into a sudsy mess. 

He rinsed off with Stiles' help, and then the shower was turned off and Stiles was guiding Derek out of the tub and onto the rug. 

He took a towel from behind the door, used it to ruffle his hair dry before drying his skin. His hands were soft in their workings, his eyes gentle as he helped Derek into his shirt and sweats. 

"Can I take care of you now?" Derek asked softly, a hand falling to the dried blood on Stiles' neck. It flaked under his thumb. 

Stiles moved to the sink, grabbing a second wash cloth and getting it wet before turning to Derek and handing the cloth over. 

He sat on the toilet, so Derek dropped to his knees, pressing his hips between Stiles' legs and lifted the cloth to the skin under his nose. 

"Is your ear still ringing?" Derek asked, careful not to tug on the ring in his nose in case it hurt. 

"Yeah," Stiles said, voice muffled from the rag. "It's okay, Puppy. You don't need to worry."

Derek sighed, moving to wipe at his chin. "But I am," he said, angling Stiles' chin up so he could wipe at the underside. "Worried, I mean. You don't heal like I do."

Stiles sighed, grabbing Derek's wrist and looking back at him. "I got roughed up because I wanted to be," he said. "I've been through worse, and I'd happily take a boot to the ribs again if it meant keeping you safe."

Derek scowled at that, but Stiles just ran a thumb across his eyebrows, smoothing out the skin. "You and Cora."

After a moment, Derek sighed and went back to cleaning up Stiles' neck, making sure to wipe in the shell of his ear. He was careful, noting the soft thrum of pain under his fingers. 

When he got the blood clean, he tossed the cloth into the sink before his hands moved to Stiles' jeans button, pulling the zip down. 

He moved back, silently guiding Stiles to stand up and pulled his pants and boxers down, Stiles holding his shoulders as he stepped out of his clothes and into the clean sweats. 

Derek pulled them up to his hips, and then stood with his shirt ready for Stiles to crawl into. 

"Let's go to bed," Derek said, head lowered to press his forehead to Stiles' shoulder. Stiles nodded, arms looping around Derek's waist. 

They walked out of the bathroom, and after checking on Cora, walked into Stiles' room. 

Stiles stripped out of his clothes and slid into bed, hugging the pillow under his head. Derek moved to the dresser, pulling the top drawer open and grabbing a hair of blue boxers. 

He slipped them on after taking off the sweats, and turned to see Stiles smiling at him from his spot on his stomach, half his face hidden in the pillow. 

"What?" Derek asked, pulling the shirt that was a size too small off before moving towards the bed. 

"I like it when you wear my clothes," Stiles confessed, shifting to his side when Derek crawled into bed. "Especially these."

His finger pulled at the elastic of his boxers. Derek moved closer, pressing his lips to Stiles'. When they pulled apart, Stiles was still smiling. 

"I can't tell if I like you better in those, or naked."

"Naked later," Derek said, curling his arms around Stiles and pulling him flush against Derek's chest. "Cora's in the other room, and I'm tired."

Stiles huffed, wrapping Derek up in his own arms and pressing a kiss to Derek's hair. "I guess I can be patient."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Puppy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are really incredible. I got over 60 comments about the note at the end of the last chapter. I wasn't expecting it at all and it really made me feel so much better about it! An update on the old woman I work with: she's toned it down after her daughter told her to chill out. I still get the husband talk, but she's not as pushy about it. 
> 
> Anyway I hope you guys like this chapter! Let me know what you think or what you want to see happen maybe?


	9. Chapter 9

"Dad! Dad! Where's my dad?"

"Stiles." 

"You did this, you let this happen!"

"Stiles-"

"You should've listened to me! They could've been safe!"

"It was too risky." 

*-*

"What do you want me to say? That I'm a stalker, huh? That I'm crazy, totally paranoid? None of this is new information."

"You're not going to at least try to give him the benefit of the doubt?"

"I give people the benefit of the doubt. I give a lot of benefit to a lot of people."

"Like Kira? Liam?"

"I was right about Theo... you know I bet you still think there's something about him that can be saved."

"Maybe. Why can't you trust anyone?"

"Because you trust everyone!"

*-*

"Yeah, because you're Scott McCall! You're the true alpha! All of us can't be true alphas. Some of us have to make mistakes. Some of us have to get our hands a little bloody sometimes."

"So you had to kill him?" 

"Scott, he was going to kill Lydia! I didn't have a choice!"

*-*

"Stiles, what did you do?"

"We couldn't let them go, Scott."

"This is murder!"

"It was either them or us. It was self defense."

"No, it's not! We don't kill people, Stiles! This wasn't right!"

"So what? You expect me to just sit back and let them go?"

"Yes!"

"They wouldve just done this to someone else. Their blood would be on our hands."

"You've already got plenty of blood on your hands."

"You know what? Fuck you, Scott. I wont apologize for killing them when they had no problem killing us!"

"You can't kill people, Stiles!"

"I can't believe your mad at me! You would rather I let them go so they can hurt other people?"

"They weren't going to!"

"Why, because they promised? Don't be so fucking naive."

"Stiles-"

"You know what? No. You surround yourself with people willing to get their hands dirty for you because you're too high on your horse to do it yourself. And the instant they do, you turn them into the bad guy. Well, I'm not the fucking bad guy here, Scott."

*-*

Derek woke up with a start, eyes flinging open. He sits upright and turns to Stiles. His back is to Derek, showing off the tree tattooed across the side. 

Derek knew those weren't his dreams. They'd been Stiles'. He leaned forward, wrapping a hand around his shoulder and forcing him to lay on his back. 

The move woke him up with a sharp inhale, eyes blinking open. Derek frowned down at him, shifting so he was half lying on Stiles, nosing at his cheeks. 

"Wha-" Stiles inhaled, blinking sleepily. "What's wrong?"

"You were dreaming," Derek frowned, looking down at Stiles. He looked up at him with a sleepy confusion. "I saw your dreams."

Stiles stiffened under him, his eyes widening a fraction as he inhaled, heart beat skipping. He pushed at Derek's shoulder, slipping out of bed. 

"Stiles," Derek called softly, sitting up in bed with a scowl as Stiles frantically stepped into a pair of shorts. His eyes landed on Derek for a split second, looking terrified and angry and betrayed and regretful all at the same time. 

"I-I'm sorry," he managed before he pulled the door open and rushed out. 

Derek climbed out of bed, pulling on the sweats just as the front door closed. He followed, pausing when Cora lifted her head from the pillow. 

"What's going on?"

"Nothing, it's okay, just go back to sleep," Derek said in a rush, leaning down to press a reassuring kiss to her head. She laid back down and Derek make it to the door. 

He followed Stiles' scent to the stairwell, leading him up to the roof. 

He let's out a breath when he sees Stiles, sitting on an electrical box not far from the edge of the roof. His knees were drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped loosely around his legs, and chin resting on top. 

Derek walked over, wincing a little as rocks and gravel dug into his bare feet. 

"Stiles."

His head turned a little, but he didnt say anything. Derek moved to stand in front of him, hands grabbing at his ankles. 

"I'm sorry," Stiles said again, not looking at Derek. "I didn't mean to do that."

Derek just frowned, shaking his head a little. He tugged at his ankles, wanting him to unfold from himself. Stiles dropped his legs to hang on the side of the box, and Derek moved closer, moving between his legs and curling his arms around Stiles to pull him closer to the edge. 

He nuzzled into Stiles' bare sternum, letting out a low rumble from his chest. It took a while, but he felt Stiles wrap his arms around Derek's shoulders, curling around Derek as best he could with his cheek on Derek's head. 

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Derek said, shaking his head. 

Stiles doesnt respond, just holds Derek. The two sit like this for a long while before Derek speaks again. Breaking the silence with a curious, "do you project a lot?"

Stiles sighs, his finger tips pressing into his skin. He shakes his head. "Only if I'm really emotional."

Derek nods and holds him a little tighter. He didnt know what to say about what he'd dreamed. They had been memories, painful memories Stiles probably never would have shared with Derek otherwise. 

"I didn't mean to."

"You did nothing wrong," Derek said, lifting his head to look Stiles in the eyes. 

"I'm not a good person, Derek," Stiles said, shaking his head. It was the first time Stiles had ever called him by his first name, and it broke his heart. "I don't deserve you."

Derek leaned forward, kissing his collar bone. He could smell the sadness and regret wafting from Stiles in waves, and he couldnt help the little whimper that escaped his lips as he continued to kiss across Stiles' collar bones. 

"Please, don't say that." Derek looked up at him again. Stiles was chewing on one of his lip rings, running his tongue back and forth over the hoop. He gives Stiles his most determined look, hoping it showed how much his next words meant. 

"You're a good person, Stiles," he says. Stiles looks like he doesn't believe him. "You help your neighbors with their groceries, and you take care of Scott's messes even after all the shit he put you through."

He gave Stiles' hips a squeeze, not taking his eyes off of Stiles. "You make potions and antidotes for people you don't know, and I'm sure there's a million other things that I don't know about that prove you're not the bad guy."

"I've got enough blood on my hands to cancel that out," Stiles scowled. Derek leaned back a little, grabbing Stiles' wrists from around his neck and bringing them between their chests. 

"You're not the only one who's killed people," Derek reminded, flashing his blue eyes up at Stiles, who looked down with a strange look on his face -adoration and sadness and distrust all rolled into one. 

Derek lifted one of his hands up, kissing at the palm, then switching to kiss at the other. 

Stiles lifted his hands to cup at Derek's jaw, angling his head up while Derek held his wrists loosely. 

"I don't know what I did to get you," Stiles said, voice low. Derek lifted himself up a little more, brushing his lips against Stiles'.

"Me either," Derek agreed. A small smile broke out across Stiles mouth, before he tucked down and kissed Derek harder, hands warm on Derek's cheeks. 

It doesnt go further than that, both too tired. When they pull apart, Stiles just sighs, and Derek can tell he's still upset. 

"Can we go back to bed?" Derek asked softly, face still cradled in Stiles' hands. Stiles gave a little nod and Derek helped him drop to his feet before the two walked back to the stairwell. 

Cora was still awake when they walked back into the small apartment, and a reassuring nod had her laying back down into the cushions as Stiles made it back to his room. 

Derek shut the door behind them, stepping out of the too tight sweats and climbing into bed beside Stiles. He did so hesitantly, settling into the bed like too much movement would send Stiles flying out of the room again. 

The instant he settled though, Stiles shifted, curling himself against his side. Derek let out a relieved breath through his nose, shifting to face Stiles as well and holding him too. 

"I'm sorry about Scott," Derek said softly, lips brushing against Stiles' forehead. Stiles doesnt say anything for a long time, and Derek doesnt expect him to. 

"I havent talked to him since that night," Stiles says finally, quietly into Derek's throat. Derek can smell the hurt wafting off Stiles in waves. It makes Derek hold him tighter. "He used to be my best friend."

Derek's never seen Stiles be anything but confident and sassy and powerful. But now he wasn't. He wasn't weak by any means -even now, Derek could feel his power thrumming under his skin- but he held a sadness and loneliness to him that Derek didnt see until now. 

Stiles had no one. No pack, no family, no friends. He remembered the conversation with Cora the other day. How Stiles had talked about the pack before. How he braided the girls' hair, probably all sitting on the floor surrounded by pillows and hair brushes. 

He wondered what had happened. Because the only girl in the pack now was Erica, and she wasn't the type. 

"What happened?"

"A lot," Stiles said, lifting his head to look at Derek. His eyes looked exhausted, emotionally drained. 

"Will you tell me about it?" 

"Not tonight, Puppy," Stiles said on a sigh, tucking his face back into Derek's throat. Derek just curled tighter against him, staying up until he felt Stiles fall asleep, and then let himself go to sleep too. 

Stiles didn't project the rest of the night, but Derek could tell he was still dreaming about Scott every time Stiles' muscles twitched, his legs kicking and face scrunching. Every time he moved, Derek woke up, let a low rumble in his chest lull Stiles into a relaxed sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're getting towards the more angsty bits of the story!! Let me know what you think! Stiles' past will be further explored further down the line


	10. Chapter 10

The next day, Stiles acts like nothing happened. He cooks for Cora and Derek, and offers to drive them to Derek's loft after breakfast. 

Derek can tell hes still not himself, so when Stiles pulls up to the loft and Derek asks if he wants to come up with him and Cora, hes not surprised when Stiles declines. 

"Are you okay?" Derek asked when the two were alone in the jeep. Stiles glances over and gives a smile. 

"I'm alright," he says. "Cora leaves tomorrow, right?"

Derek knew it was a cheap change of subject, but he let's him have it. 

"Yeah, her plane leaves at six."

"In the evening?"

"Morning."

Stiles makes a face that makes Derek chuckle a little. "No one should ever see six o'clock twice in one day," he grunted. 

Stiles schools his features a little, reaching his tattooed hand across the bench seat to grab Derek's hand, interlocking their fingers. 

"I'm really glad you and Cora are okay," he said softly. Derek slid across the bench, leaning over to press a kiss to Stiles' lips, free hand on his jaw. 

"Can I come over tomorrow? After I get back?" Derek asked, pulling away just enough that their eyes wont cross to look at each other. 

"I'd be a little upset if you didn't," Stiles hummed, leaning forward to kiss him again. It was a chaste kiss, that made both of them grin when he pulled back. 

Derek gets out of the jeep, following after Cora. He hears the jeep pull away once the front door was shut, and Derek takes the stairs up past the once-factory up to the loft. 

"I like Stiles," Cora hummed from her spot on the couch. Derek lifted an eyebrow at her, and she grins. "He's good for you."

"We know a few people who disagree," Derek responded, rolling his eyes as he walked past her to the bed tucked back into the corner. 

"Fuck Scott," Cora snapped, flipping the tv on. "And fuck the Three Stooges. You two were made for each other."

Derek cant help but smile at that, fingers moving subconsciously to the words written on the curve of his hip bone. He turns his face away from Cora as he digs through his drawers to find clothes that actually fit him. 

Stiles was close to the same height as Derek, but he was smaller by at least two sizes. His hips were thin, leading to a thin waist. His shoulders were broad for his body type, but even then, his shirts were pulled taut across Derek's chest, making him feel a little claustrophobic. 

"The McCall pack has had their share of troubles," Cora continues, flicking through the channels. "But they haven't gone through what we have. They don't understand, and I don't think they ever will, so stop trying to get them to see a reason, and just be with Stiles."

Derek pauses, new clothes in hand and thinks it over. She was right. Scott hadn't lost everything. He didn't understand how alike Stiles and Derek were. Derek didnt even fully understand how similar the two were -they'd only known each other less than a month. 

But he knew he related more to Stiles than he ever had to anyone in the McCall pack. Even Boyd, who'd lost his sister and spent his whole school career alone. Or Issac who's only living relative beat the shit out of him. 

He couldn't connect with them. He didn't know them. In the four years he had been in the pack, he hadn't once felt connected to them the way a pack should. 

But in the month he's known Stiles, he's learned so much. How Stiles woke up kitten-soft, and didn't drink coffee because he was already high strung. How protective he was of the things he viewed as important, how possessive he could be, and how Derek was realizing that possessiveness was because he was lonely. 

As lonely as Derek was, if not more. Because Derek had Cora and Peter and Malia. From what Derek could tell, Stiles had no one. 

Derek walked to the bathroom to change his clothes, folding Stiles' pair neatly before walking back out and setting them on his bed. He'll drop them off in the morning. 

"Come cuddle with me," Cora demanded, sprawled on the couch like a rag doll. Derek sighed, but complied, easily sitting down and pulling Cora's legs over onto his lap. 

His thumb pressed into her ankle, fingers doing a dance across her shin as he tuned in to what was on the tv. It was some baking show. 

"Is it different?" Cora asked once the commericals began, eyeing Derek, who frowned in confusion. "Being with your soulmate."

She sat up a little, looking at him fully. "I know you havent known each other that long, but is it different with him than it was with Paige?"

"I don't know," Derek said honestly. "Paige was nearly ten years ago."

"Well, you don't exactly date that many people," Cora huffed. A pause, and then, "don't make this complicated, Der."

Derek knows why shes asking. Her own soul mark was a simple 'hello, sweetheart' -a very common conversation starter for her. Like Derek, Cora never waited around for her soulmate. 

The two of them dated -Derek more than Cora- and had sex with whoever caught their eye -Cora more than Derek- but soulmates always got in the way. Stopped them from getting too close, from feeling too strongly. 

"Its different," Derek answered. "We fit, better than I've fit with anyone else before."

Cora listened, the tv forgotten for now. Derek cleared his throat. It was strange to talk about it when he didnt fully understand it himself. 

"Stiles makes me feel... connected." There was that word again. "I hardly know anything about him, and at the same time I feel like I know him more than I should."

"That sounds nice," Cora said, and Derek could hear the faintest bit of jealousy in her tone. 

"Its confusing," Derek corrected her. "He makes me do things I wouldnt normally do. I'm exposing my neck to him, whining when he's in a bad mood, and I like it when he calls me Puppy."

He scowls at that. Cora also looks a bit shocked. Even before the fire, before they lost everything, Derek hated pet names. Hated when their mom called him sweetheart, when their dad called him sport, or when Cora called him some strange name like sourwolf or eyebrows.

"He's got me soft and needy, and I can't stop wanting to bury my nose in his scent and inhale until I choke," Derek continues. "And its terrifying."

Cora moves, tucking her legs under her butt. "Because of how fast its going?" Cora asks. It was going fast. Much too fast, yet not fast enough, and yeah, that part was terrifying too. 

"Because he could be as cold hearted and inhuman as Scott says he is and I'd still crawl into his bed and expose every vulnerability I had," he answers, looking down at his knees. 

Cora blew out a breath, not expecting that answer. Honestly, Derek wasn't expecting it either. Cora shifted again, moving to sit beside Derek and slouching against his side, legs tucked to her side. 

He noticed her thumb tracing over the soul words written on the inside of her wrist, and Derek wondered if she was thinking about what he said -how she felt about it. 

The two stayed silent for a long time, paying too much attention to the tv when a knock sounded on the industrial barn door, echoing through the loft. 

"I got it," Derek sighed, climbing off the couch and walking to the door. 

"Hey," Erica greeted unsuredly when the door was pulled open. Cora sat up on the couch, looking over with a blank face. Erica turned her eyes from Derek to her, giving a small timid smile before turning back to look at Derek. 

"Could we talk?" Erica asked. Derek blinked at her. He had an idea of what she wanted to talk about, and wanted to say no and shut the door on her face, but those dark brown basset hound eyes looked at him pleadingly. 

He turned to Cora. "I'll be back." She nodded and Derek snatched up his wallet and keys from the small shelf by the door. Erica looked a little relieved as he stepped out of the loft, closing the door behind them and following Erica down the stairs to the main door. 

She came in her little blue Volkswagen, and they take it to a little cafe not far from the loft. Derek has to push thr seat all the way back and even then, his knees press uncomfortably into the glove compartment. 

He stretches when he unfolds himself from the small car, and together the two walk into the cafe. He doesn't say anything, unsure if he wants to hear what Erica has to say. Especially after seeing how she looked at Stiles yesterday -like he was a rabid dog. 

Derek finds a table in the back, secluded and away from prying ears. Erica sits down across from him, fingers tapping against her folded arms anxiously. 

Derek doesnt talk. Erica brought him here, he had no intention of initiating anything. He just watched her, and after a while, she finally spoke. 

"Stiles is really your soulmate?" She asked, chewing on her lip. Derek nods, body already tensing as he waits for the onslaught of speech most likely about how Stiles was a horrible person and dangerous and heartless. 

"I didn't think he had one," Erica said, looking down at the table. "Even in high school, he didn't seem like the type to get a soulmate."

"What did you want to talk about?" Derek asks, and it comes out way more snappy than he had planned. He's scowling, but he cant seem to force himself to stop. 

"Uhm," Erica huffs out, a little shocked at his bluntness. "I wanted to say sorry."

"Sorry?"

Erica nods. "I've grown up with Stiles," she says. "I've known him since middle school. I know what he's like, and I -the pack- haven't been very nice about it. But the way Stiles looked at you yesterday..."

She runs a hand through her hair. She winces a little. "I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at you. I guess everyone was worried Stiles was going to hurt you, and I'm sorry if I upset you. I can't really speak for the boys, but I want you to be happy, even if its with Stiles."

Derek doesnt know what to feel about it. It sounds empty, yet not at the same time. Like she doesnt fully believe what shes saying, but is saying it anyway, for a reason Derek doesnt quite get. 

"He's not a bad guy," Derek decides. Erica really doesnt look like she believes him, but she doesnt say anything, so Derek continues. 

"Its not my place to explain his actions to you," Derek sighed. "But I know him enough to know he'd never hurt someone who didn't deserve it."

"He's killed a lot of people."

"So have I," Derek snapped, making Erica flinch back. He sighs, rubbing his face. "Our world isnt as black and white as Scott likes to believe."

They're quiet for a while, and Derek decides he's finished with this conversation. It's gone nowhere. 

"I appreciate you trying to talk things out," Derek said, standing up. Erica stays seated, eyes wide as she looks up at him. "And I get it, but none of you needs to worry about my safety. I can take care of myself, and so can Stiles."

With that, he walks our of the cafe. It was the most unnecessary talks he's ever had the pleasure of having. Most of his talks with the pack is the same, but that doesnt stop Dereknfrom scowling during the walk back fo the loft. 

Erica said what she needed to say. Or said something that would make Derek more sympathetic to her point of view. Whatever it was she was trying to do, it didn't work, because just like Scott, Erica didnt know Stiles. Didnt understand him. Not the way Derek did. 

Which just made his scowl deepen. Erica had said she knew him since middle school. Scott knew him longer, and yet neither of them knew him at all. 

How had their views on Stiles change to the point of making him out to be a villain? How could Scott -his best friend- look at Stiles and see nothing but murderer? What did Scott think when he looked at Derek?

He made it back to the loft a little after noon, finding Cora with her arm elbow deep in a bag of his chocolate covered coconut clusters. 

"You better not be eating all of those," he warned, kicking his shoes off and replacing his wallet and keys on the small shelf. 

"Technically I'm not," Cora droned, still watching the tv. The baking show was over, and now she was watching reruns of Pitbulls and Parolees. Derek gave her an unimpressed look. "They were half gone when I got them."

Derek reached across and grabbed a handful of the coconut clusters, slouching in his seat and letting his hand rest on his belly, so the snack didnt fall out of his hand. 

"How was the talk?" Cora asked. 

"Didn't fix the problem, but she did apologize."

"For?"

"No clue," Derek huffed. "Honestly the whole conversation was confusing. She said she was sorry, and that she could see Stiles cared, but she still thinks of him the same, and gave her half-hearted blessing that I see him."

Cora scoffed, and Derek nodded in agreement, the both popping a coconut cluster into their mouths at the same time. 

"How would you feel about finding a new pack?" Cora asked, the two of them still watching the tv in slouched positions on the couch. 

"The McCall pack is the only one in the area," Derek sighed. They'd had this discussion a million times in the last year. 

When they had first moved back to Beacon Hills, it was to be closer to their family, to be in the town they grew up in and maybe heal more than they had out of state. But by then, the McCall pack was four years old and had taken over as protecter of Beacon Hills. 

They had accepted Derek and Cora -Derek assumed because of their small numbers, and that they were Hales, and knew a lot about a lot- and that was that. 

Now, the pack was eight years old, and hadn't grown in the four years Derek had been a member. Beacon Hills less and less a place he and Cora grew up, and more and more a place they felt trapped in. 

"We could always move out of the area," Cora hums, sliding sideways against the back of the couch until shes resting against Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been getting a couple comments about my writing being in past and present tense. I've always written like that, that's how I learned how to write, so I'm sorry if it confused you but it's not something I can really change. 
> 
> Also I'm working on quite a few short stories and I might post them, but I might not. Just in case I dont post for more than a couple days. Just wanted to let you guys know I'm working on other ideas because I'm a bitch and dont know how to work on what I have before starting new shit 😂


	11. Chapter 11

Derek doesnt get back to Beacon hills until seven the next morning. He had to get up at four, which neither him or Cora appreciated. They stopped at Tim Hortons on the way to the airport, and had a teary eyed goodbye at Cora's gate. 

Now, Derek blinked sleepily as he parked in the apartment complex parking lot, right next to Stiles' jeep. 

He shuffles up the stairs and to his door. He knocks, but doesn't expect an answer. A twist of the handle shows the door was unlocked and he scowls sleepily at that. 

He makes sure to lock it behind him before he makes his way to the bedroom. Stiles is laying on his stomach, thr blankets a mess around him, barely covering his legs, which are twisted around the sheets. 

His bare back is on show, rising and falling with a soft whistling sound. One arm is cradling the pillow under his head, the other hanging off the side of his bed. 

He can see the bruise on his cheek and side from the other day, dark and ugly. 

Derek kicked his shoes off, sliding out of his clothes before crawling over Stiles to get to the empty half of the bed. 

Stiles' soft whistling noises stop as he inhales, eyes blinking. "You left the door unlocked," Derek muttered, not even bothering to climb under the covers. He'd have to untangle them from Stiles to do that. 

"I'm a few powers shy of being omnipotent," Stiles grunted back, face still pressed into the pillow. "Fuck whoever tries to break into my apartment."

Derek must've fallen asleep, because when he wakes up, he's got a body on top of him, and somehow he's been tangled into the bedding. 

He shifts a bit, tilting his head to the side. Somehow Stiles had managed to drape himself across Derek's chest, his hip bone pressing into Derek's ribs. 

His head is pressed onto Derek's pillow, and somehow, Derek had taken Stiles'. Stiles isnt even under the blankets anymore, because they're twisted around Derek's lower half, and one of Stiles' legs is hanging over the side of the bed. 

"Stiles," he grunts, shifting under him. Stiles just grunts. "Stiles get off me."

"No," Stiles replies, voice muffled by the pillow. Derek grunts, one arm pinned under Stiles. Its falling asleep. 

"Get up or I'm gonna bite you," Derek threatened, earing an indignant grunt. Stiles just burrowed deeper into the pillow, not moving. 

Derek growled before reaching his free hand up and pinching Stiles' ass. Stiles jumped, letting out a startled yelp and pulling himself up, effectively moving his butt out of reach. 

He scowled down at Derek, hair a mess and eyes droopy with sleep. His scowl looked more like a pout. 

"Why'd you do that?" He demanded, voice still gruff and low with sleep. Derek's already trying to unwrap his legs from the blankets. 

"You're a bed hog," Derek grunted, managing to only make the sheets tighter around his legs. "Help me."

"Nuh-uh," Stiles shook his head, moving to straddle him. He managed to pin Derek's arms to his sides with Stiles' knees, and Derek huffed. "We're sleeping in for at least another two hours."

"What time is it now?" Derek frowned. He got here at seven, it couldnt be any later than nine. 

"Time for you to get a watch," Stiles answered. Derek rolled his eyes, but after a moment, Stiles climbed off of him and untangled the blankets before draping it over the both of them. 

"Come cuddle me."

"No, you're an octopus."

"You assaulted me," Stiles countered. "My ass is probably bruised."

"Its not," Derek rolled his eyes, scooting closer to Stiles and pressing his nose into his neck. 

"Maybe later you could check," Stiles suggested, curling his arms around Derek and shifting so their legs zippered together. 

Derek only hummed, surprised that he managed to fall back to sleep, breathing in Stiles' scent. 

"Hey."

Derek sighs as hes woken up by the whisper by his ear. He doesnt open his eyes, but Stiles can tell he's awake, because he leans over to kiss his cheek. 

"I'm gonna suck you off," Stiles said, still a whisper. Derek grunted, blinking his eyes open to peer at him. 

"Why'd you wake me up?" Derek asked, stretching a little on his back. 

"Because consent is a thing and I really wanna suck you off." Derek huffed a snort, shutting his eyes again. 

"I'm starting to think you only like me for my body," Derek said when Stiles huffed and flopped onto his chest. 

"That's only half true," Stiles said, chin pressed into Derek's pectoral muscle. He stretches under Stiles, the shift making him aware of both their boners. 

Derek doesn't want to do anything about it yet, his hand moving up to brush lightly against his cheek. The bruise curls around the bottom of his eye, darkening the side of his nose. 

"You like it?" Stiles asked, making Derek frown. His lip was still cut, but it wasn't bleeding anymore. 

"No."

"What? I think it makes me look tuff," Stiles hums, a small smile on his lips to keep the cut from reopening. Yeah, there was no way Stiles was going to be able to suck him off without his lip bleeding. 

Derek couldn't deny that the bruise oddly looked good on him -made him look like a character from a book he used to read. Tattooed and pierced and bruised and bloody. He did look tuff, but he had looked tuff before the beating. 

"I don't like it," was all Derek said, scowling as his index finger brushed across the cut on his lip. Stiles rolls his eyes in a find way before moving up and planting a kiss to Derek's lips. 

Derek keeps the kiss light, worried about Stiles' lip. Stiles moves so he's straddling him, knees pressed into Derek's ribs near his armpits. 

"How many dates do I need to take you on before you let me sex you up?" Stiles asked when they pulled away. 

"At least five," Derek hums, eyes fluttering when Stiles rotated his hips forward, grinding down on Derek. 

"Does the date at the diner count?" Again, he rolls his hips forward, holding his upper body up with his hands on either side of Derek's shoulders. Derek let's out a breath, lifting his hands to grip at Stiles' waist. 

"Haven't decided yet."

"You're gonna make me work for it?" Stiles asks with a grin, sitting back so all his weight is on Derek's groin. 

"I'm usually not this easy," Derek confessed, the words coming out between clenched teeth as Stiles picked a rhythm of quick thrusts, their clothed dicks slotting beside each other. 

Wordlessly, Derek holds his arms out, letting Stiles interlock their fingers. It gives Stiles more leverage, and Derek let's out a strangled noise. 

"If anyone is easy, it's me," Stiles huffed, dragging his hips slowly across Derek's. "I don't have a five date rule."

Derek can't respond to that. Not when he's so close to cumming in his boxers. He opens his mouth, not wanting another soiled underwear incident, but all that comes out is a breathy moan, his eyes dropping closed. 

He bucks his hips into Stiles. "There you go," Stiles praises, his voice also growing breathy. It's all Derek needs before he's cumming in his boxers. His grip on Stiles' hands tighten, teeth clamping down on a growled out whimper. 

Stiles continues to roll his hips forward and back, dragging out Derek's orgasm until he's cumming too with a loud moan, head falling back to expose his neck. 

They were both breathing heavily, Stiles shifting off Derek's crotch. He laid down on his stomach, chests pressed together. Stiles folded his arms on Derek's chest, resting his chin where they overlapped. 

"How many people have you had sex with?" Derek asked, fingers tracing feather light patterns on Stiles' sides. 

"Jealous?"

"Curious," Derek corrected, his fingers outlining the bruise on Stiles' side. 

Stiles sighed, long and drawn out. "I've lost track," he said honestly. "I don't have the healthiest coping mechanisms."

Derek assumed it was a lonely thing. He understood. It was why he had dated so many people -or tried to. 

"What about you?"

"Maybe six?" Derek guessed, shrugging a bit. His run with Kate was always hard to figure. Including her was seven, but it wasn't very consensual. And Derek never knew if oral counted towards his body count. If it didn't, and he didnt include Kate, then the answer was three. 

"Men?" Stiles asked. 

"Just oral," Derek answered. His sex life wasn't as spectacular as Cora's or Stiles'. 

Paige had been his first, back in high school. Then came Kate. His first time with a man was at a strip club, just hand jobs. 

The rest were failed attempts at dating, and needy groping in dark hallways or back seats. 

Stiles hummed, fingers drumming against Derek's chest. "We're going to have to set up ground rules," Stiles decided. "More than the five date rule."

"Like what?"

"What you're comfortable with, how fast or slow you want to go," Stiles listed. "If you're comfortable bottoming, or if you like topping."

"I don't know," Derek said without meaning to. Stiles silently asked him to elaborate with a tilt of his head. Derek's ears grew hot and he cleared his throat. 

"I think I do," Stiles grinned, leaning up to kiss Derek on the mouth. "But who knows, you might surprise me."

"What do you like?" Derek asked. 

"I prefer to be on top," Stiles said. "But I wouldn't have a problem if you wanted to try."

When Derek did have sex, it had always been the dominant one. He assumed it was a 'wolf thing -not feeling comfortable on his back or not having control- but with Stiles, it was different. 

Derek liked when Stiles took control. He didnt think he'd be so comfortable handing over the reigns. 

"We'll also need to talk about your heat."

That got Derek turning pink all over and he groaned in embarrassment, covering his face with both hands. "No."

"Okay," Stiles said, chuckling a little. "Not right now then. But we'll have to soon."

Derek would rather relive his entire high school experience than talk about his heat. 'Wolves never got them until they found their soulmates, and Derek had blissfully forgotten until just now. 

His parents had told him about it when he turned sixteen, made it seem magical. A bonding moment only shared between two bonded people. 

Derek wanted to kick himself for forgetting about it. And he wanted to kick Stiles for beinging it up. 

"Let's get cleaned up and get some lunch," Stiles huffed, lifting himself up. Derek raised up to his elbows, following Stiles with his eyes as he climbs out of bed and walks to the dresser. 

He can feel the cum drying tacky in his boxers and shifts a bit, pinching the fabric and pulling it away from his skin with a frown. 

"You want to go out for lunch?" Stiles asks. Derek looks up just as Stiles was snapping a clean pair of boxers over his hips. They're bright green. 

"Yeah," Derek nodded, sitting up fully. Glad for the much needed change in topic. Stiles walked over, leaning over Derek, a hand on his chest pushing Derek back down onto his back. 

He kisses him hard, a hand on Derek's chest the only point of contact besides their lips. "Get dressed, I'm hungry."

"I'm dirty," Derek reminded, cum still heavy on the fabric of his boxers. Stiles grins, eyes dropping down to his crotch. 

"I know," he says, sounding proud. Derek let out a whine, shifting a little. 

"You've got a cum kink," Derek realized. Stiles' smile grows even wider, and he leans down and kisses Derek again. 

"I've got a lot of kinks," Stiles confessed, straightening again and walking back to the dresser. Derek lifted back up onto his elbows. He's never been with anyone who had many kinks. Most were pretty vanilla, and if he slept with someone who had a kink it was usually just as mild. 

Stiles didnt seem like someone who's like vanilla or mild. He didnt know if that made his stomach roll in a good way or a bad way. 

He looks back down at his soiled boxers and whines again. Stiles chuckles as he opens the drawer to grab his own clothes. 

A pair of purple boxers drops onto his stomach, and Derek looks up to see Stiles already in a clean pair of jeans. 

"Come on, Puppy," Stiles nods at him. "I want a cheeseburger."

*-*

Stiles ignores the looks as he walks into the diner, Derek at his heels. He nods a small smile to Helen, to Jim behind the counter, and slides into the booth towards the back of the diner -his usual spot. 

Derek sits down across from him, resting his forearms on the table. They place their order with Helen, who drops off their drinks. 

Theres something different in the air between them now. Something Stiles wasnt sure he liked. Now, a fragility hung in thr air, a seriousness and a vulnerability there. 

He didn't like it. Didnt like how he felt exposed, laid out on the table for Derek to see. Because Derek had seen a glimpse of Stiles he wasn't ready for him to see. 

And that hung over their heads now. Now Derek wanted to know more, and Stiles wanted to tell him -he was Stiles' mate, he wanted him to know everything- but telling would mean reliving, and those wounds were still too fresh to pick at. 

"Here you go," Helen spoke, setting a cheeseburger and fries down in front of Stiles. Derek got the same thing, though he had tomatoes and onions on his. 

"Thanks."

Once alone, Stiles turned back to Derek, huffing in amusement as the 'wolf squeezed a generous amount of ketchup over his fries. 

"We're going to have to talk about your eating habits, Puppy," he hummed. Derek looked up from his plate, handing the ketchup bottle to Stiles before shrugging. 

"My way is more efficient," Derek said, picking up a fry covered in ketchup and biting it in half. 

"Its disgusting is what it is," Stiles countered, the two of them eating their fries. 

"You didn't think so last time."

Stiles cocked an eyebrow. Last time Derek sucked his fingers into his mouth in the most obscene way, lips puckered around the tips of each digit, working his jaw. It had made Stiles a little wet in his pants. 

"You're making it really difficult to stick to your five date rule, Puppy," Stiles groaned. 

He wanted to take him right there in the diner, pin him to the cracked red plastic vinyl of the booth and let everyone watch. Derek didn't help when his cheeks dusted pink and he looked down with a small smile. 

But he liked this. He liked dating. Stiles never dated. He met people in clubs and bars, he stuck around for a quick fuck and left before breakfast.

He didn't do dating, yet here he was, sat across from his soulmate -the pretty little wolf- and he enjoyed it. Enjoyed sitting and talking, and knowing that he'd only get a kiss out of Derek at the end of this date if he were lucky. 

Derek got Stiles. Understood him in a way that no one else ever could. And maybe that was the shared experience of losing the people they loved, or maybe it was their personality. It might even be only because they were bonded for life -something Stiles never thought he would ever get- but Derek got him. And he got Derek. And that made Stiles feel something he hasn't felt since his dad, and maybe even before. 

"I hope you know I expect dates often," Derek said, eyeing Stiles with a little smirk. "Five isnt my limit."

Stiles smirks, stuffing a handful of fries into his mouth. "I'll take you on as many dates as you want." 

And Derek smiles, blushing and looking down at his plate, because he doesnt hear a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a little more talking going on between Stiles and Derek! Let me know what you think! I'm working on a couple stories and I'm renovating my camper so updates are going to be slow but I'll try to post regularly


	12. Chapter 12

Derek finds himself spending most of his time at Stiles' house the next week. They skirt around the topic of Stiles' dream projection, and Derek's own past -even though both are well aware of it. 

It's nice. Stiles still hogs the bed when they sleep together, and more often than not Derek wakes up to a face full of hair, or Stiles spread across him like hes part of the furniture. 

When Derek does spend the night, Stiles always makes breakfast. He always makes too much -filling both their plates. Stiles never finishes his, so Derek does. He doesn't mind when the eggs get cold because Stiles sits with him, and they talk. 

About everything but the things they don't want to talk about. But they have to. 

It's late at night when Derek wakes up with a start. His skin was clammy with drying sweat. Stiles is still sleeping, back facing Derek with his arm up over his head. 

Derek climbed out of bed, running a hand through his damp hair. He walks out of the bedroom, making the short distance from the hallway to the kitchen and grabbing a glass of water. 

He downed the whole thing, his throat feeling as dry as the air in his old house. He fills the glass again when he hears Stiles shifting in the bed. 

Theres a brief moment when he feels the need to just leave. He doesnt want Stiles to wake up and walk out and see his hands shaking. 

But he doesn't move. He leans against the counter, glass in hand and breathing hard. He can still smell the smoke, the burned wood, the smell of flesh melting. He can hear the screaming, the cackling of the fire and the popping of wood too hot to stay in one piece. 

"Der?"

He hadn't heard Stiles come in, and he startled so hard he jostled the cup in hid hand, spilling half the water onto his feet and the floor. He sets the glass down on the counter, in case he decides to drop the whole thing. 

"You okay?"

Derek only nods, grabbing a dish towel from the oven door and dropped it onto the floor to soak up the water. 

He's barely bent down to wipe it up when Stiles grabs him by the wrist and tugged him out of the kitchen. 

"Come with me, Puppy."

Derek frowned, too tired to fight him. His hands were still shaking, remnants of the nightmare flashing through his mind and keeping his heartrate rabbit fast. 

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, letting Stiles drag him across the living room. "I don't want to go back to bed."

"We're not going back to bed," Stiles said, steering Derek towards the bathroom. He pushes Derek down onto the toilet. 

Derek vaguely registers the starting of the bath. He's too busy staring at his shaky hands and willing them to stop. 

Stiles is sitting on the edge of the tub, watching the water fill up. They're both in their boxers, but Derek is hot. His skin is burning with a fire underneath. Like that night. 

A flash of flame and a haunting cry has Derek taking in a shaky breath. He crosses his arms over his chest, stuffing his hands under his arms to quell the quivers in his fingers. 

Derek doesn't know what to do with himself. He's had nightmares plenty of times, but he always dealt with the aftermath on his own. He didn't want Stiles to see his minor freak out. 

"Come here, Puppy," Stiles speaks lowly, gentle fingers coaxing Derek's arms open. Derek doesn't look at him as Stiles gets him back on his feet, tattooed fingers pulling his boxers down. 

"Get in."

Stiles' hands dont leave his skin when Derek steps into the warm bath water, and he sits down in the water. A second later, Stiles is stepping in behind him, legs on either side of Derek. 

Derek's eyes land on the tattoo on his calf, the pine trees circling his leg, growing darker the closer to his ankle it gets, before bleeding black over the top of his foot. 

"Lean back." Derek does, his back pressed to Stiles' chest. He can feel the cold metal of his nipple piercings pressing into his skin. Stiles has a rag, covered in soap. He uses it to wipe at his chest. 

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, letting his head rest back against Stiles' shoulder. He stares up at the ceiling, eyes wet, but no tears falling. 

"My mom used to do this when I had nightmares," Stiles says lowly, breath cooling thr skin on Derek's neck. Derek blinks a bit, frowning, but not saying anything. "She said baths help wash away the bad dreams. Keeps the rest of the day clean."

"You had nightmares when you were little?" Derek asked, wanting a distraction from his own. Stiles continued to clean his chest and arms, his free arm holding his middle and keeping them close. 

"Still do," Stiles said. "You should see my water bill."

"I always dream about the fire," Derek confesses, sounding so small even to himself. "I was in the house when it happened."

Stiles' movements stop, and he shifts to place his lips to the side of Derek's neck. They sit like that for a while in silence, the water slowly growing cooler. Neither mind. 

"I usually dream about my family too," Stiles says. "Sometimes Scott and the pack."

"What happened to them?" Derek asked, turning his head on Stiles' shoulder to look at his side profile. Stiles continues his mindless cleaning, moving the rag across his chest, over his collar bones, down his biceps, over his neck. Over and over. It feels good, his touch so soft and full of care it makes Derek want to meet into him. 

"My mom died of frontotemporal dementia when I was ten," Stiles begins. "It wasn't all that bad until the hallucinations kicked in. She got violent towards the end."

Derek didnt know what to say. Didnt want to say anything and ruin the moment. He wanted Stiles to confide in him. Wanted to be there for him the way Stiles was there for Derek -scrubbing away the nightmare with a soapy rag. 

"She thought everyone was trying to kill her," Stiles said, the sharp scent of sadness emanating from him. "She attacked me, called me names. Most times my dad had to pry her off of me."

Stiles' arm around Derek's waist moves so he can run his fingers over his ribs, tracing over them like piano keys as he continues with the rag. 

"My dad died six years later," Stiles continued. "There was a darach, and she needed sacrifices. Virgins, warriors, philosophers, healers and guardians."

Derek had heard about the darach from the pack. Scott, Erica, Boyd and Issac had all been around for that. They'd stopped her, but not before she killed thirteen people. 

"There was a way to be surrogate sacrifices to save them, but Scott didnt think the risk was worth it." Derek could hear the pain and anger dripping from his voice. 

Could feel it in the tightening of Stiles' arms around his middle. This wasn't like the pain of loosing his mother. That pain was dull. This was fresh and burning hot. 

"It took too long to convince him, and by then, the darach had already killed my dad," Stiles said. "The darach got away, Scott saved his mom, and I was left with dead parents, an uncontrollable Spark and a darkness around my heart that I can never get rid of."

Derek lifted his head from Stiles' shoulder, turning to look at him with a frown. His eyes took in the angry lines on Stiles' face, before lowering to his tattooed chest, where he could hear the soft thumping of his heart. 

"That's why he's scared of me," Stiles says so softly it's almost a whisper, and he gives a humorless smile. "Because I'm surrounded by darkness, because my Spark is too strong. He knows I have nothing to loose."

His smile changes a little from that sad tilt of his lips to something a little more fond, eyes softening from their hard liquor color to a honey gold. 

His wet hand pets Derek's cheek, lips brushing against each other. "I don't want to lose you though."

Derek curls his fingers around Stiles' wrist, kissing him back just as softly. 

"Our lives are kind of fucked up," Derek says when they break apart. It makes Stiles chuckle, shifting to curl his arms around Derek, forcing Derek's back to his chest. He buries his nose into the crook of his neck, placing a wet kiss there. 

"Very fucked up," Stiles hums. "But I think it could be less fucked up together."

Derek nods in agreement. 

They sit together until the water gets uncomfortably cold, and then they crawl back into bed, skin still clammy from the water. 

Neither one wake up until noon thr next morning, and Derek has four missed calls and seven text messages from Scott. He's half tempted to ignore him, but he reads the messages and grunts. 

"You know anything about a witch in town?" Derek asked when the two are getting dressed. 

"No, but I can look into it," Stiles hummed, yanking a shirt over his head. His hair is a mess of odd angles. It looked like he stuck a fork in an outlet, but Derek thinks he looks really attractive. 

"The pack has been dealing with her for two days now and only called for help now because she hexed Boyd." Derek didnt know how to feel about not being in the loop until now. 

On one hand he was grateful not to be dragged into pack mess when they didnt feel like his pack to begin with. On the other hand Derek wondered if the reason he was left out had to do with Stiles and the hunters from the other week. 

"Don't worry about it, Puppy," Stiles said, stepping up and planting a kiss on Derek's mouth. "I'll take care of it."

Derek doesnt bother texting Scott back, and instead goes to the store to restock the loft. Derek trusted Stiles to handle the situation. He didn't trust Scott, and he didnt want to talk to him either. 

He gets his normal groceries, and spends some time in the book isle, just to pass the time. He leaves with a couple books that caught his eye, and then goes to check out. 

He let's out a sigh of relief when he gets to the loft, finding it quiet and empty. He sets the grocery bags on the counter in the kitchen, putting the groceries away before making his way to the couch with the books he bought. 

Its quiet, and Derek flops down onto the couch with a huff, setting all but one book down on the coffee table next to a stack of books he had already read. 

He wondered what it would be like to have a pack here with him. Not the pack he already had, but one like before. Like his family. 

Cora and Laura would share the upstairs, and Derek would've turned the room next door into a place for his parents. Maybe put a door in where the whole in the brick wall is, possibly build a bedroom around his bed for more privacy. 

Maybe Peter and Malia would live with them, which means they'd have to build on to the loft, and Stiles would be there. 

He knew Stiles and Cora got along, but maybe he got along with his whole family. Stiles and his dad could watch games together. Stiles could've fit in with his family so smoothly, and they could all live together like before. 

They could get a bigger couch, could all sit together and bask in each other's scents the way packs were supposed to. 

He wondered briefly if Stiles would leave with him. If he would pack up his stuff, climb into his car and follow Derek out of Beacon Hills to find a new home together.

He didnt think on it too long, afraid of getting his hopes up only for Stiles to want to stay. Derek would stay for Stiles. He wondered if Stiles would leave for Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!! I've been writing ideas and shorts! I have this list full of ideas and they just seem to be growing and I never get any of them done, so I'm spending time with that! I'm working on a mobster stetopher story right now!! It's been in my ideas list for a long time. 
> 
> Also, I have to figure out where I want the Fox and the Hound to go! Writing aside I'm also renovating a camper and this covid shit is really killing my vibe with this whole end of the world shit going on. 
> 
> But thank you guys for being patient with me! I hope you like this!


	13. Chapter 13

Derek found himself at Stiles' front door two days later. He was worried. The last thing he had heard from Stiles was that he had found the witch and was going to talk. 

He told Derek not to worry, but now he was worrying quite a bit because he wasn't returning any of his texts or calls. And he couldnt ask the pack because Scott hated Stiles and wouldnt have worried or looked for him. 

He knocked first, but didnt waste time waiting for Stiles to answer. He twisted the handle, saw it was unlocked and rushed in. 

"Stiles?"

He didnt have to take more than a few steps into the house before he saw Stiles on the floor in front of the couch. 

He was in nothing but his boxers, sitting cross legged with a trash can in his lap. His arms were wrapped around it, head leaned forward. 

"Stiles, what's wrong?"

Derek rushed over to him, dropping down to his level. He could smell sick, and Stiles lifted his head, nose running and eyes bloodshot. 

"How'd you get in?"

"You don't lock your door," Derek answered. "Are you sick?" It was a stupid question. 

Stiles dropped his head back down with a groan. His whole body stiffened as he inhaled sharply. It took a second for Derek to realize he was dry heaving. 

It ended with a coughing fit, a shaky hand brushing under his nose. 

"I'll be okay, you should go."

Derek growled at that, dropping to his ass in front of Stiles. "Let me help."

Stiles looked up, looking beyond miserable. "You can't, Puppy. It's a hex, itll pass on its own."

"The witch hexed you?" Derek asked with a frown. 

"Nausea spell," Stiles confirmed. "It usually lasts forty-eight hours."

Derek waits to speak while Stiles dry heaves again, wincing at the obvious pain he's in. 

"Can't you just Spark it away?" Derek asked. Stiles shook his head. 

"Its because I'm a Spark that it's not as bad as it usually is," Stiles said. "Usually the nausea spells can last weeks and there's dizziness and fainting and blinding pain on top of the nausea. I got the better end of the deal."

It took a lot of coaxing to get Stiles to hand over the trash can and move to the bedroom. Derek put the trash can in the tub to clean out later, returning to the kitchen to grab one of Stiles' bigger sauce pans and walking into Stiles' room. 

He had no idea what to do with a human illness -even if caused supernaturally. He set the pot down beside the bed. Stiles was curled under the covers, curled in on himself. 

"I'll be right back."

Stiles didnt give any indication of hearing him as he walked into the bathroom to clean out the trash can in the tub. 

While he was in there, he googled a lot, and came to the conclusion that Stiles had to eat and drink water. 

A blog run by a mother of three recommended crackers and water, so Derek searched through the cabinets until he found half a sleeve and filled a cup with water. 

He made his way to the bedroom with a clean trashcan and the crackers and water. He set the can down beside the bed in case Stiles needed to throw up again, and then set the glass on the nightstand. 

"You don't have to stay," Stiles grumbled, half his face buried in the pillow. His bruise was mostly faded, leaving behind just the slightest hint of a yellow hue to his cheek.

Derek reached into the sleeve, pulling out a cracker and holding it out for him. "You need to keep something in your stomach."

"I'm just going to throw it back up," Stiles huffed, taking the cracker and nibbling at it. Derek waited for him to eat the whole cracker before switching the sleeve out for the glass of water. 

He drank a couple sips before settling back into the bed again. Derek kicked out of his shoes and jeans before climbing into bed behind him, curling himself against Stiles' body. 

He splayed his hands on Stiles' stomach, pulling at the pain there until Stiles let out a soft sigh, relaxing against Derek's chest. 

"Thanks, Puppy."

Derek pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, listening to Stiles fall asleep. He stayed awake to make sure he was okay, occasionally pulling at the pain in his stomach caused by the tensing of his muscles when he heaved. 

He woke up every hour or so to throw up over the side of the bed, but with only thr one cracker and the little bit of water, it wasn't much. Derek kept forcing food and water down his throat every time he was awake, and was more than content to lay with him until the hex wore off. 

Derek finally fell asleep a little after midnight when Stiles had been asleep for more than two hours. Neither woke up until the morning, and Stiles was looking a lot better. 

Derek made food while Stiles got cleaned up in the bathroom. He had googled what to make, and thankfully Stiles had a leftover container of white rice. Stiles added in some chicken and carrots with a bit of broth and heated it all up in a saucepan. 

"Ooh, special treatment?" Stiles asked, walking into the kitchen. He pressed his hip into the counter beside Derek, peering over his shoulder to see what was being made. 

"You make me breakfast almost every time I'm over," Derek huffed. "I'm just returning the favor."

Stiles grinned and leaned forward to kiss Derek on the cheek. "Thank you, Puppy. I'm starving."

Derek poured the make shift soup into two bowls, handing Stiles his. Neither of them grabbed spoons, instead just slurping from the bowl, chewing the chicken and rice. 

"So is the witch gone?" Derek asked. He hadn't heard anything from Scott, but then again, he hadnt heard from him since Stiles rescued him and Cora all those weeks ago. 

"Yeah, she's taken care of," Stiles said. Derek didnt have to ask. Taken care of to Stiles, was making sure it never happened again. He didnt stay on the subject long, knowing Stiles wasn't the most comfortable with the topic. 

After how his old pack had reacted, Derek didn't put it past Stiles to beat around the bush. 

"Thank you," Derek said. Stiles looked up from his bowl in surprise before giving Derek a lopsided grin. 

"You're welcome."

*-*

The two spent the majority of the day on Stiles' couch watching TV and kissing. Stiles was still a bit sore, and was a little dizzy still, so Derek kept their activity light, even when Stiles pushed for more. 

"Don't cock block me," he scowled when Derek pushed his hips off. 

"I can feel your pain still," Derek reminded. To prove it, Derek touched his wrist, little black veins shooting up his arm. 

"You try puking your guts out for a whole day," Stiles grumbled. He settled though, with his body draped over Derek's, head on chest and limbs splayed like a star. 

"Would you," Derek started, exhaling and shifting a bit. Stiles lifted his head, folding his arms over Derek's chest and placing his chin on the fold. "Would you want to spent the night with me? At my place?"

"Do you want me to?" Stiles asked, his finger tracing Derek's jawline. Stiles knew a lot about werewolves, he understood the importance of Derek's question. 

But Stiles was Derek's mate, and he wanted Stiles' smell in Derek's loft just as Derek's smell was in the apartment. Derek nodded, his chest tightening when he sees the slow smile take Stiles' face. 

"Only if I get to have fun in bed," Stiles agreed. Derek nodded again, this time more vigorously. God he wanted his bed to smell like Stiles and sex so bad. 

Stiles laughed before kissing Derek's chin. 

They left Stiles' apartment around dinner, stopping at the diner for a quick bite to eat before making it to the loft. 

Stiles had been to the building before, but never inside. Derek let Stiles wander around the loft, looking at the hole in the wall, the bed in the corner, floor to ceiling windows, the couch and tv and then the spiral staircase. 

"Cora sleeps there when she visits," Derek informed. Stiles didnt go up, and instead checked the bathroom and kitchen out before returning to Derek. 

"I like it," he grins. "Definitely fits you."

Derek rolls his eyes, but kisses Stiles when the tattooed boy plants a wet one on him. He curls his arms around Stiles' waist, bringing him close so their chests meet. 

Stiles pulls away just enough to grin at Derek. "You're really cute," he says. 

Derek doesnt know why -maybe it's how Stiles says it, or the word itself- but Derek's cheeks flame pink and he let's out an embarrassed sound at the back of his throat, ducking his head to Stiles' neck. 

"No I'm not," he says, meaning it to come out as a grumble but coming out like a whine instead. Stiles laughs, curling his arms around Derek's shoulders. 

"You are," Stiles chuckles. "You do this really cute thing whenever we kiss that makes me just want to crawl all over you and fuck you until you're all mushy."

Derek buries his head deeper, trying to control his heartbeat at Stiles' words. 

"What do I do?" Derek manages to ask. Stiles gets his head out so they can look at each other and Stiles doesnt answer at first. He kisses him hard, licking into Derek's mouth and tickling a whimper from the werewolf. 

He pulls Stiles closer, causing Stiles to grin in the kiss and pull back. 

"Whenever we kiss," Stiles hums, lips pink from the make out. "You always push your chest against mine, like the space has no business being between us."

Derek's eyebrows lower a little, trying to remember doing that, then letting out a breath and tightening his arms around Stiles. 

"Oh," he said. "I didnt know I was doing that."

"Its cute," Stiles grins, kissing Derek again. "You do that with other people?"

"Jealous?" Derek quipped, grinning when Stiles broke out into a quick laugh. His fingers tangled in Derek's hairdull nails scratching at his scalp. 

"Curious," Stiles replied. 

"I'm usually not this clingy with other people," he confessed. Stiles' grin grew, looking beyond pleased. 

"I think we should be naked and clingy in that really big bed over there," he said, nodding his head to Derek's bed. 

Derek nodded, letting Stiles drag him across the loft. He managed to get his shoes off on the stumble over, and Derek let's Stiles push him onto the bed, crawling over him and crashing their lips together. 

Derek hums into his mouth, licking at his piercings. Stiles pulls back, yanking his shirt off and then helping Derek out of his own. 

"Pants off," Stiles demanded, climbing off Derek. He's already shimmying out of his when Derek reaches his button, and once Stiles has his boxers off, he helps Derek out of the remainder of his clothes. 

Derek barely has time to kick off his boxers before Stiles has his mouth on him, taking him down as far as he can and making Derek groan, back arching. 

"Oh, my God," he gasps. Stiles pulls off and grins before moving up Derek's body to mouth at his nipple. Derek groans softly as his teeth scrape across the skin, biting down lightly on the taut nub before running thr flat of his tongue over it. 

Derek's hips shift, looking for friction. Stiles complies, lowering himself so their dicks press together and Derek can feel the piercings down Stiles' shaft glide against his own. 

"I want to eat you out," Stiles says suddenly, mouth leaving Derek's nipple. The spit cools on his skin. 

"Huh?"

"Have you ever been?" Stiles asks, rutting against Derek slowly. Derek shakes his head. Girls weren't into that, and the guys he had been with had been handjobs or blowjobs and nothing past that. 

"Do you wanna try?" Stiles asks, his thumb pressing into Derek's soul mark on his hip as he rolled his hips. Derek let out a breathy sound and nodded. 

"Please," he mewled. He didnt know if he was begging for Stiles to actually eat him out, or for him to gove Derek the release he craved. 

"You can stop at any time, okay?" Stiles said, stilling his movements. Derek keeps a discontent grumble down, and nods instead. "I'm serious, Puppy. With anything you're new at, if you get uncomfortable you let me know and we'll try it the other way around."

It takes Derek a second for his brain to catch up with what Stiles said. Stiles catches it and smirks, leaning down to kiss Derek on the mouth. 

"I can take it just as much as I dish it out, Puppy," he grins. "Now, roll over so I can taste you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long!! I'm writing a stetopher gang-ish au and honestly I lost track of the days! Also, I know I left it at a small cliff hanger but dont worry, I'm currently writing the good shit as we speak and it wont be so long between posts! 
> 
> I dont know when this new story is gonna be published, but I've got a little over 15,000 words and it's not even close to being done, and it's only going to be two chapters, but I'll let you guys know when I post it! 
> 
> Anyways, I'm sorry for the delay, it wont happen again I promise!! Let me know what you think!!


	14. Chapter 14

Derek looks beautiful laying on stomach the way he was. Stiles' tattooed hands guide him softly and gently, grabbing one of his pillows to put under his hips. 

"Hold the other pillow under your head," Stiles hums softly, kneeling behind him. Derek grabs the other pillow, curling his arms around it and resting his chin on it. 

Stiles can tell hes anxious with anticipation, wants to turn around so he can see what Stiles is doing, but then Stiles' knee is pressing between his thighs, forcing Derek to shift and spread his legs deliciously.

His arms tighten around the pillow, the muscles in his shoulders rippling. Stiles places his hands on each of Derek's cheeks, squeezing and kneading them with an appreciative hum. 

He shifts, moving down Derek's legs so he can get his mouth on the skin of his tailbone. He grins a little at the hitch of breath, and chases the noise by licking a large stripe from tailbone to lower back, watching the goosebumps rise on his skin. 

Stiles mouths at his ass, nipping and sucking at the skin of his cheeks, making sure the marks stay put, loving how Derek reacts to his mouth. 

When he gets to Derek's hole, he softly laps at it, not pushing in, and Derek's hips shift, thrusting softly into the pillow. 

"Keep going?"

Derek lifts his head from the pillow when Stiles removes his mouth. He gets onto his elbows and turns to look at him with a needy glare. 

"Don't stop," he demands weakly. Hes flush and panting, cock leaning onto the pillow. He didnt know if he would last before Stiles got to do anything. 

He watches as Stiles grins and lowers his head, burying his mouth between Derek's ass cheeks, licking and kissing at him. Derek moans, falling back onto his chest. 

Derek let's out a surprised groan when the dull tip of a finger pressed to his hole, tongue still lapping at him. 

He pushes in slowly, pausing at the first knuckle. Derek shifts, whining a little at the stretch just one finger gets. After a moment, Stiles pushes in further, his rim too tight to get past the second knuckle. 

Stiles takes his time, working his finger in and out while licking at him and humming. His teeth scrape at sensitive skin. 

Stiles presses in further, and Derek groans when his finger brushes against his prostate. He can feel Stiles smirking as he continues to tongue at Derek. He pulls his finger out before pushing it back in, hitting the spot again and again. Derek's never felt anything like it, and he wonders why he waited so fucking long to do it. 

He knew the answer was because he was just never comfortable being so vulnerable with anyone in bed. He couldnt stomach it before. But with Stiles it was different. 

"I'm gonna go for another finger, okay?" Stiles asked softly, kissing at his tail bone. Derek nods, burying his face into the pillow. 

When Stiles pulls his finger back, Derek can feel another press in. He mewls, raising up onto his elbows and rocking forward. 

Stiles' tongue goes back to work as he slowly pushes in two fingers. The stretch isn't as painful as he thought it would be. Stiles pushes his fingers in as deep as he can, and then scissors them. 

Derek let's out a cry, body working against Stiles unconsciously. His legs part even further as Stiles fucks him on his fingers, slowly picking up pace, pressing into his prostate with every push forward. 

"Can you get on your knees for me, Puppy?" 

Derek shifts, getting his legs under him, his ass in the air with Stiles' fingers still buried in him. He keeps his chest pressed into the pillow, grip on it white knuckle tight. 

"Good," Stiles praised, kissing the skin just above his hole. "You're so pretty."

Derek moans softly, the new angle hitting much deeper when Stiles thrusts his fingers in again. His other hand presses into Derek's hip, dull fingers pressing deep into skin. 

"Want another finger?" Stiles asks. 

"Yeah," Derek pants. "Please."

Stiles chuckles, and Derek growls as another finger is added, stretching him impossibly wide. He can feel his nails sharpen and puncture the pillow he has a death grip on. 

"You're so good, Puppy," Stiles hums, keeping his thrusts slow until Derek's body relaxes around the intrusion. Derek whines, rocking softly back into Stiles' fingers. 

A low pressure starts to build deep inside Derek, a familiar pressure yet completely different. He whimpers and pants, buries his face in the pillow and moans. 

He gets so close just on Stiles' fingers alone, he let's out a frustrated growl when Stiles pulls his fingers out. 

"Roll over for me, Puppy," Stiles grunts. "I want to see you."

Derek does as he says, pillow still under his hips, and Stiles leans up to kiss him. He spreads Derek's legs as far as they can go, kneeling between his thighs. 

Derek flushes at the new position, but he doesnt shy away from Stiles' hungry eyes or his hands. 

"God, I really wanna fuck you," Stiles breathes, his own dick hard and pink. Derek almost tells him to just do it, fuck getting to know each other first, but then Stiles has his fingers in his ass again and all Derek can do is let out a pitiful whine. 

Derek wonders if it's normal to cum without attention to his dick -he's seen it happen in porn, but that's not always very accurate- and feels himself building up close to release again. 

Would he be able to? Derek pants out with every thrust of Stiles' fingers. He holds one of his legs while his other hand fists into the sheets of the bed. 

Stiles curls his fingers and Derek jolts on a gasp, back arching as Stiles pets his walls. He knows his eyes flash blue at the feeling, can see Stiles smirk and do it again, just to get a reaction out of him. 

Derek's moans turn into whines and then into soft words of warning before he tenses around Stiles' fingers and cums with a strangled growl, teeth clenched and body arching. 

When he settles, theres cum on his stomach. Stiles pulls his fingers out and Derek groans a little as his hole closes on nothing. 

"God, you're so fucking pretty," Stiles whines, leaning forward and kissing Derek's mouth. Derek kisses back, legs falling back onto the bed. Stiles pulls back, still kneeling in between Derek's thighs. 

Derek's eyes follow his hand as Stiles reaches for his stomach, palming at the cum before grabbing his pierced length, using Derek's excitement as lube. 

"Fuck," he grunted, watching as his cum covered hand worked at his length, bringing him closer and closer to release before he cums on Derek with a breathy "ah!"

Derek sat up, reaching for Stiles and yanking him into Derek's lap, his dick soft and sensitive. Stiles laughs at Derek's neediness, but straddles him anyway, kissing him hard. 

Derek doesnt even care that the hand pressed to his jaw is covered in his cum, or that there was cum on his stomach. 

He let out a noise when Stiles licked into his mouth, thr tip of his tongue patting the back of Derek's teeth before he pulled away with a mischievous grin, lips kiss bruised. 

He looked down at their joint mess on Derek's stomach, dipping his fingers into it, drawing a twisting pattern before bringing his thumb to his lip and sucking it off. 

Derek opened his mouth when Stiles offered another digit, sucking it into his mouth, tasting the two of them. His fingers press into Stiles' lower back, drawing him closer as they share each other on Stiles' fingers. 

Stiles grabs his shirt from the end of the bed, cleaning his fingers, then Derek's chest and his dick before wadding it up and throwing it off the bed and sighing as he leaned against Derek until they were both laying down. 

"I think that was the best sex I've had in a long fucking time," he confessed, mouthing at Derek's neck. "I can't handle how fucking gorgeous you are. And those sounds, God! I could cum on those alone."

Derek let's out a strangled embarrassed sound, curling his arms around Stiles and rolling so they were both on their sides. "Stop it," he groaned into his skin. 

Stiles laughed, tangling his limbs up with Derek's ans nuzzling into him. "I can't believe you're all mine," he said, and Derek had to agree with him. Sometimes it didnt seem real. Like now. He felt like this was a dream, that he'll wake up and Stiles wont be there. 

"My pretty little wolf."

Derek hums, kissing at whatever skin he could reach. His chest swelled with an emotion Derek had never felt before, and he couldnt help but pull Stiles impossibly closer, because he was right. 

The air between them had no right to keep them apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut for you! And a little cuteness! Lol I decided to post this now instead of tomorrow because I have to drive across the country and the trip is 24 hours long and were only stopping for bathroom breaks. I'm helping my aunt move. 
> 
> The next chapter is going to be mostly dialogue, but its get to know you dialogue! I'll post that chapter when we get to our destination and unpack! 
> 
> Let me know what you think!!


	15. Chapter 15

"We should play twenty questions," Stiles suggested, sitting on the kitchen counter while Derek made breakfast. They'd stayed in late. Every morning with Stiles was lazy, Derek was finding out, and Stiles really loved taking care of Derek's morning wood, and getting the same treatment. 

It was the best way to start the day, in Stiles' words. 

Derek raised an eyebrow, glancing up at Stiles while he flipped the pancakes. "Isn't that some game you play in high school?" Derek asked. 

Stiles waggled his eyebrows, grinning a little before shrugging. "We'll ask deep questions," he said. "No 'what's your favorite color' or shit like that."

Derek hummed his assent. "You go first then."

Stiles rolled his eyes, but straightened anyway as he thought of his first question. "Okay, I got one."

Derek waited, putting the cooked pancake on the plate before scooping batter into the skillet. 

"What's something you're glad you'll never have to do again?"

Derek frowned at that. He wasn't expecting that kind of question, and he had to actually think about his answer. 

"Go to school," he settled on after a long internal debate. There was a lot of things he was glad to never do again, but school had been the worst. 

"Man, school fucking sucked," Stiles agreed. "None of my teachers liked me."

"Wonder why," Derek grunted, smirking at Stiles' shocked expression. It quickly broke into a laugh. 

"Maybe smoking weed in the bathroom, or skipping class," Stiles huffed a laugh. "Were you a bad kid in school?"

Derek shook his head, flipping the pancake. "My parents wouldn't let me be a bad kid in school," he hummed. "Said I was already a trouble maker at home, the least I could do was be good in school."

Stiles laughed again. Derek couldn't help but smile down at the pancake. He didnt talk about his parents often. But it wasn't difficult with Stiles. 

"Okay, you're go," Stiles nodded towards him. Derek thought about it for a moment. 

"One thing you always procrastinate on?"

"Ooh, good one," Stiles grins. "Probably dishes. Or dusting? I dont remember the last time I I my apartment." Derek hummed, realizing he didnt remember the last time he dusted either. Who dusted regularly? 

"Okay, what would you do with a million dollars?"

"Save it," Derek answered automatically. 

"Really? No fancy car or expensive boat?" Stiles asked. Derek shook his head, putting the last of the batter in the pan. 

"I've got everything I need," Derek said. He didnt mention how Derek had a large sum of money already. When his mom and dad died, their money became the kids' money. When Laura died, it was split between Derek and Cora. 

Derek had a little over one hundred fourty million saved. He never spent it -except for his loft, the Camero and the occasional trip to the grocery store. He never needed that much money, so it kind of just sat there. 

"You've got no sense of adventure," Stiles huffs fondly. 

Derek just shrugs a shoulder before handing Stiles his plate. The two eat right there, holding their plates with one hand. 

"Do you believe everything happens for a reason?" Derek asks after a while. Stiles hums, chewing slowly. 

"No," Stiles shakes his head. At Derek's questioning look, Stiles elaborates. "Theres no reason for our parents dying, or for someone being raped. Theres no 'this happened to make you a better person' or for you to 'grow'."

Stiles shrugs again, eyebrows furrowing as he takes another bite. "I think we find reasons for the shit that happens to us."

"I agree."

"Good," Stiles says sharply, grinning a little before going back to his food. 

"What do you think a healthy relationship looks like?"

Derek shrugs. "No fucking clue," he answers honestly. Stiles laughs, nodding in agreement. "Im assuming a lot of communication and compromise."

"We'll have to figure it out together," Stiles hums. Derek nods. 

"What do you consider absolutely unforgivable?" 

"Putting ketchup on your fries instead of to the side," was Stiles' immediate answer, and Derek broke into a laugh, nearly loosing the pancake on his fork. 

"You're fighting a loosing battle," Derek chuckled. "I'm not changing my eating habits for you, even if you are hot."

Stiles grins. "You think I'm hot?"

Derek rolled his eyes, smiling down at his plate. "You're okay," he shrugs. 

"You really know how to sweep a guy off his feet," Stiles huffs between a mouthful of food. "If you woke up and weren't afraid of anything, what would you want to do first?"

"Sky dive," Derek said. Stiles grinned. 

"Really? You've never been?"

"I don't like heights," Derek shook his head. "I like my feet planted firmly on thr ground."

"I went once in high school," Stiles said. "Scsriest fucking thing in my entire life. But it was so fun."

Derek shook his head with a smile. "Yeah, I can't even fly on a plane without drugging myself so I don't freak out."

The two finish their breakfast and migrate to the couch. Stiles is laid out across the cushions, Derek nestled between his legs on his side, leaning his head against the back of the couch so he could look at Stiles. 

"Best way to end a long day?"

"Hmm." Stiles runs his fingers up and down Derek's side, feather light. "Fuzzy socks, a Mets game and a cheese burger with curly fries."

"You wear fuzzy socks?" Derek asked, shocked. Stiles smirks, nodding. 

"That surprising, Puppy?"

"Yeah," Derek says, grinning. "Kind of thought you were a plain black sock kind of guy."

"You should see my sock drawer sometime," Stiles says. "Lots of colorful argyle prints, and those socks with little cat heads on them."

Derek laughs. He couldnt see it, but he was definitely planning on looking the next time he stayed over. 

"Do you get energized or drained when you spend time with people?" Stiles asked. 

"Drained," Derek said. "But that just might be around stupidity." Stiles chuckled, kissing Derek's cheek. 

"What makes you feel alive?" Derek asked, settling further into Stiles' chest, curling an arm under him. Stiles hooked a leg over his hip, taking a long inhale before blowing it out. 

"Being with you," Stiles settled on. Derek huffed a noise, not at all prepared for that answer. He buried his face in Stiles' neck, holding him close to his chest. 

"You gotta stop doing that," Derek groaned into his skin, making Stiles laugh. 

"Doing what, Puppy?"

"Being all mushy," Derek growled out, cheeks turning pink. "I don't know what to do with it."

Stiles laughed again, tucking his face to kiss behind Derek's ear. "I'm only mushy for you, Puppy."

Derek lifted his head, pressing their mouths together. Stiles hummed, smiling against his lips before kissing Derek's nose. 

"Wanna go somewhere?" Stiles asked. 

"Where?"

"Dunno," Stiles shrugged. "We could walk around." Derek nodded. Stiles grinned and the two got up. 

The walk was so domestic, Stiles even linked their fingers together as they walked down Circle Boulevard towards downtown. 

Derek couldn't help but smile at their feet as Stiles bumped their shoulders together and swung their arms. 

"Okay, I've got a question for you," Stiles starts. Derek nods. "What's your favorite memory?"

"Hmm. Family trip to Yellowstone," Derek said. "It was the last one we ever went on before the fire. We stayed there for a week, and got to spend the full moon up there."

"Really?" Stiles grinned. "Did you guys play with the local wolf population?"

Derek rolled his eyes, bumping into him. "No, but Laura did run into one, and it tried to eat her."

The two chuckled as they rounded the corner, Derek replaying the week in his head. His mom and dad making food on the fire, the three of them exploring the woods around their campsite. 

They had visited the touristy spots just for the hell of it, but for the most part they stayed in thr less trafficked area, eating s'mores and watching the wildlife. 

Stiles' steps faltered a little. Derek looked up to see Issac and Erica walking out of a cafe. They hadn't seen Derek or Stiles yet. 

Derek turned to Stiles, lifting their joined hands to press a kiss to his knuckles just as they caught Issac's eye. 

"Derek," he greeted a bit stiffly. Erica turned, a scowl on her face. It only deepened when she saw Stiles. 

"Where have you been?"

"Does it matter?" Derek asked, keeping Stiles' hand in his. He noticed Stiles looking around, and wondered if he was looking for Scott. 

"How are you doing?" Erica asked. Derek cocked an eyebrow at her stinted question, her basset hound eyes flitting to Stiles. She was uncomfortable. 

Stiles looked over at her, realizing she was asking him and not Derek. 

"Fine," came his one worded reply. 

"We gotta go," Issac said, side eyeing Stiles as he grabbed Erica by the elbow to pull her towards the car parked beside the sidewalk. 

"Are you going to be at the pack meeting tonight?" He asked Derek, keeping his eyes firmly on Derek and not on Stiles. 

"No," Derek responded before tugging Stiles down the sidewalk without another word. The easy atmosphere between them was ruined, and Derek cursed the betas. Stiles was frowning, deep in thought and staring at the sidewalk. 

"I'm sorry," Derek said once they'd past a couple blocks. Stiles looked up, confused. "For Erica and Issac."

"Its alright," Stiles shook his head. "Not your fault."

"They think they have a say because they think we're pack," Derek continued. 

"You're not?"

Derek shook his head. "I don't know," he sighed. Stiles tilted his head a bit to the side, squeezing his hand. Derek's other hand scratched at his hair. "They don't feel like pack."

"Then why don't you find a pack that does?"

"Because that would mean leaving," Derek said, the two of them began circling back towards the loft. "And I have mixed feelings about that."

"Because its home?" Stiles guessed, voice light. Derek gave a small smile that didnt reach his eyes and nodded. "I get it." 

The rest of the walk back to the loft was quiet. At some point Derek wrapped his arm around Stiles' shoulders, bringing the tattooed man close to his side. 

"Do you sing?" Stiles asked out of nowhere. Derek grunted, looking at him in confusion. Stiles laughed. "I mean, to yourself. Do you sing in the shower?"

"Not really," Derek shrugged. "I'll hum to the song in the car if it's good. Do you?"

"Oh yeah," Stiles grinned, long tattooed fingers pinching at Derek's hips as they walked. "Theres no stopping me when N'Sync starts playing."

Derek rolled his eyes, chuckling fondly. "You would like N-Sync."

"How can I not like them?" Stiles asked incredulously. "They're only the greatest boyband of all time. Please don't tell me you don't like them. I really don't know what I would do if I had a soulmate who didnt like N'Sync."

"Not to burst your bubble, but they were only cool in the 90s, and I'm pretty sure you arent old enough to've appreciated them at the time."

Stiles looked at him with his mouth open, shocked. Derek watched as his eyes flashed white for a split second, and didnt have time to react before a shock zapped him through his clothes. 

Derek yelped, jumping away from Stiles' offending hand. "That's for hating on N-Sync and assuming I'm not a 90s baby, because I so am."

Derek growled at him threateningly, though it didnt have much affect because he grabbed Stiles' hand tight after, interlocking their fingers. 

"Being born in '99 does not make you a 90s baby," Derek pushed on, smirking at Stiles when he scoffed indignantly. 

"First off, fuck you," he grunted. "Second, I was born in '95, so fuck you." Derek laughed, his head falling back a little. 

"And when were you born? The seventies?"

Derek pulled Stiles in close when they reached the loft, pulling his keys out with his free hand. 

"I was born in '87," he hummed. He opened the door and tugged Stiles inside before the two of them headed up the stairs. 

"So you're eight years older than me," Stiles said. "You're thirty-one?"

"Yep," Derek said, pulling the industrial barn door open. 

"You don't think it's weird?" Stiles asked when they reached the couch. Stiles sat down on Derek's lap, arms resting on his shoulders and tattooed fingers ticking at the hair at the back of Derek's head. 

"That you're twenty-three?" Derek guessed. 

"That I'm the dominant one," Stiles huffed. "I knew you were older than me but I didnt realize there was that big of an age difference. Usually older men feel emasculated by the fact that I'm not some stereotypical pillow princess twink."

Derek rolled his eyes, leaning forward to nuzzle Stiles' neck. "Obviously I don't mind," Derek grunted. "If anyone is going to be the pillow princess in this relationship its gonna be me."

Stiles burst out laughing, his adams apple bobbing against Derek's cheek. He leaned back a little, grabbing at Derek's chin and angling his head up to kiss him. 

"I'm gonna fucking spoil you like a princess," he grinned when they pulled apart. "All you gotta do is lay there and look pretty for me."

Derek let out a little noise at that, tightening his hold around Stiles' waist, placing sloppy open mouthed kisses to Stiles' neck. 

When he pulled back again, Stiles' eyes were dilated, lips parted on a soft and silent moan. 

"My bruises are going away," Derek informed him. Stiles' eyebrows furrowed in confusion, so Derek pulled at the band of his pants, showing the fading hickies on his skin. "I think maybe you should give me some more."

Stiles smirked, leaning forward to kiss him again. "How about your neck? So everyone knows you're mine." Derek moaned and nodded, dropping his head back onto the back of the couch to give Stiles more room to work. 

"You're so fucking good for me, Puppy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for more relationship building! Stiles isnt as dark and ruthless as he seems! Tell me how you like it! 
> 
> I'm running off of 4 hours of sleep and two energy drinks! The drive was way long and we only stopped three times to nap for an hour or so, but we made it and I'm flying back home tomorrow morning! I cant wait to sleep in my own bed and cuddle with my puppy!


	16. Chapter 16

Derek woke up feeling off. Stiles had slept in his own apartment -something they hadn't done in weeks now- and Derek woke up alone, and he hated it. 

His loft was too warm, bordering on muggy, so he opened all his windows before getting ready for the day. 

He took a cool shower for no reason but because he was running warmer than normal. He decided shorts and a light tshirt would be best for the day. 

He had just decided to go on a run, hoping it was just built up energy and the closeness of the full moon when he heard a knock on the industrial barn door. 

Stiles didn't knock and Cora was still in school for another month before summer break. He hadn't heard from the pack since the run in with Erica and Issac almost three weeks ago. 

He walked over and yanked the door open, surprised to see Peter and Malia with bags on their shoulders. 

"You're back," Derek said. Malia jumped inside, dropping her bags on the floor. "Why didnt you call?"

"It was a surprise for all of us," Peter hummed, stepping inside when Derek made room. "Hope we're not intruding."

If Stiles were here, he wouldve said they were, but instead, he said, "no, you're not. How long are you guys staying?"

"We got bored of traveling," Malia said, wrapping her arms around Derek in a rib bruising hug. Derek hugged her back, ignoring how warm he was feeling. He really should run it off, or go to the lake. "Can we stay here for a while?"

"Yeah," Derek nodded. "Cora's bed is upstairs and one of you guys can sleep on the couch. If I knew you were coming I wouldve set up a couple beds in the other room."

"We've been backpacking across Europe and sleeping on the ground," Peter said. "Couch is fine."

Derek nodded, feeling a bit awkward. He hadn't been expecting them, was out of most of his food and didnt even have any spare beds for them. 

"Well, laundry is in the bathroom if you wanna wash anything, and the shower has it's own water so you can have warm water."

"Got anything to eat?" Malia asked. "I'm starving."

"Its not like we didnt eat before the plane ride," Peter rolled his eyes. Derek could see past the asshole front, and he smiled at the butter fondness Peter had for Malia. 

Peter's whole life changed when he found out about Malia, and honestly, Derek's did too. Werewolves were pack animals, they stuck close to family, and after the fire that took out the whole pack, and then Laura being gunned down by hunters, it had just been Peter, Cora and himself. 

None of them were alphas, but they were family none the less. They stuck close as best they could. When they found out about Malia, and realized she had less of a pack than they did, the Hales adopted her as their own. 

It was two years after that Peter and Malia decided to go on a road trip across country to bond, that turned into a backpacking trip across Europe. They'd been gone for a long time, but the feeling of pack and family still clung to them like sand to wet skin. 

"You can check the kitchen but I don't have much," Derek confessed. "I was just about to head out to get some grocery shopping done."

"I put my phone back on the plan, so call when you get back, Malia and I will help you bring groceries in."

Derek smiled, a warmth filling his chest as he nodded. He grabbed his keys and wallet by the door and left his uncle and cousin in the loft. 

Grocery shopping for the Hales was easy. You could never go wrong with red meats, potatoes, and vegetables. Derek got frozen burritos and pizza and grabbed frozen waffles for Malia. 

He got his usual -cheerios and stuff for salad, though he knew the other two would refuse to eat it- and a few things to make meals before loading up the Camero and texting Peter he was on his way. 

He also texted Stiles, letting him know Derek would be busy today and that he had family visiting. 

Stiles' reply was a couple seconds later, a smiley face and a thumbs up with the words ooh have fun!

Derek smiled before setting the phone down and driving back to the loft. Malia and Peter were waiting at the front door when he pulled up, and the three of them got the groceries inside in one trip. 

"What's for lunch?" Malia asked, sitting down at the counter while Peter and Derek put the groceries away. 

"Whatever you decide to fix yourself," Derek grunted. Malia stuck her tongue out at him, and he reached forward to pinch it. Malia ducked and flashed her sharp teeth at him playfully. 

"Where's Cora?" Peter asked. "Shouldnt she be home now?"

"She gets a break in about a month," Derek answered. "One more year before she's finished though."

"At least someone in the family is going to college," Peter smirked. Cora was the first and only Hale to go to college, and Peter was extremely proud, even if he acted like she was too good for them now. 

"Speaking of Cora," Malia grinned, all teeth. "She told us about your soulmate. When do we get to meet him?"

Derek grunted as he put the two boxes of cereal up in the cupboard. He was still warm, and it was getting a little uncomfortable now. 

"Soon," Derek said. "He comes over a lot."

"Tell us about him," Peter demanded, sounding anything but interested as he stocked the fridge. Derek knew his uncle enough to know he was curious. 

"He's nice," was what Derek went with. "And handsome. That's all you get."

Both of them groaned and Derek chuckled, finishing with taking care of the groceries. 

"How long have you guys been together?" Malia asked. Derek had to think about it. 

"Four months," he said, surprised. It didnt seem like that long. Malia followed him to the couch, snuggling into his side. 

"Is it serious?"

"We're soulmates," Derek rolled his eyes. "I'd say so."

"Have you gotten your heat yet?" Peter asked as blunt as fucking possible. Derek blanched, cheeks flaming pink as he choked on air. 

"Don't answer that, I dont want to know," Malia snapped, gagging as she sat up from Derek's side. 

"Wasn't planning on it," Derek growled out when he caught his breath. "That's a bit personal, don't you think?"

Peter smirked knowingly and shrugged a shoulder. "Just trying to be a good uncle. You know, you have to learn how it is from someone."

"I'm going for a run," Derek decided, not wanting to be subjected to Peter's sick sense of humor so soon after they turned up on his door. 

He needed to run off this feeling. He got into his Camero, driving out to the preserve. He texted Stiles before he lost service. 

To Stiles S.  
Uncle and cousin want to meet you. Maybe this week?

He pulled the car into an empty lot, stepping out. It was hotter now, so Derek took his shirt off before taking off in a light jog down one of the many nature paths of the preserve. 

The run made him feel worse. He pushed for an hour, hoping he'd loose some of whatever he was feeling, but he just got hotter, sweating through his clothes. He felt an itch under his skin, and no matter how far he ran or how fast, it wouldnt go away. 

He was leaning against a tree, trying to catch his breath. He couldnt remember the last time he got out of breath from just running. 

He ran his hands over his thighs, back and forth to wipe at his sweaty palms, and closed his eyes, leaning his head back. 

A soft whine left his throat and his eyes snapped open and looked down. He was palming at his crotch. Fuck him. 

He pulled his hand away, but the urge to touch himself was still there. He made it to his car and got in, slamming the door shut behind him and grunting. 

He was in heat. He couldnt go back to the loft, not with Peter and Malia there. He wondered if he could stay in the car for a while to see if he could calm down enough to make it to Stiles' place, but after three minutes and the urge to rut against anything only getting harder to resist, Derek put the car in drive. 

He had the sense to fish his phone out of his back pocket, pulling up Stiles' number. It kept his hands from his dick -having one on the wheel and the other holding the phone. 

"Hey, Puppy," Stiles answered. 

"I need you," Derek said, interrupting whatever else he was going to say. He sounded needy. He cleared his throat, hands knuckle white as he held tight. "Please, I need you now."

"What's wrong?" Stiles asked, suddenly sounding worried. Derek let out another whine, half tempted to drop the phone and just jerk himself off at the stop sign. 

"I'm almost to your apartment," Derek said instead. This was embarrassing in a way Derek never thought it would be. Being a male, it was different than when a female went into heat. So far, he was mostly cognizant, and could think pretty clearly. 

From what Derek had heard, heats left people sex craved, bordering on dumb until they could get their release as many times as needed. He had heard horror stories about 'wolves loosing their minds. But for the most part, Derek was fine. Just really fucking warm and hard as fuck. And a bit needy. 

He didnt hear what Stiles said after, but the phone call ended, and the phone was in the seat beside him, and he was pulling into the complex parking lot. 

Everything hit worse when he saw Stiles waiting out by the front door, looking worried and dressed in sweats and a faded graphic tshirt. 

Derek climbed out of the car, forgetting his phone and locking the door. Keys were nearly dropped twice as he rushed to Stiles, crashing into him and burying his face into Stiles' neck. 

Derek didnt need to tell Stiles what was going on. He pressed his body against the tattooed man from head to knees, holding him tightly and whining into his skin, and Stiles knew.

"Hey, Puppy," Stiles sighed, holding Derek and letting him nuzzle. 

"Can we go inside?" Derek asked, the need to rut against Stiles making his grip on control falter. His eyes were flashed blue, he knew it. Fuck this was so humiliating and it would only feel worse if someone walked down the sidewalk to Derek humping Stiles like a dog. 

"Yeah, let's get something to drink," Stiles nodded. Derek had only a minute to smell the familiar ozone and petrichor before he was in the kitchen of Stiles' apartment. 

"Go sit at the table," Stiles enjoined, letting Derek go. He dropped into the chair, elbows on the table and the heels of his palms digging painfully into his eyes. 

His fangs poked at his lower lip, and he pulled it back in a silent snarl before closing his lip over the bulge of his teeth. His leg was shaking. 

He pulled his hands from his eyes and dropped them, whining again when his hands instantly moved to his dick. He snatched them back, elbows back on the table and hands back at his eyes. 

"Drink this." 

Derek lifted his head, looking at the small glass of something purple. He scowled at it, knowing it was wolfsbane. 

"It'll take the edge off," Stiles promised. Derek took the glass when he offered it again and took it like a shot, wincing at the burn of the aconite. 

Stiles took the glass and set it on the table before pushing at the back of the chair. Derek pushed the chair out so he was facing Stiles. Stiles squatted in front of him, grabbing his almost flailing hands. 

Derek gripped his hands, glad they had a distraction. 

"Okay, I'm going to make this quick and easy for you, okay? And then we can go take care of you, is that alright?"

"Yeah," Derek said, nodding his head. Stiles gave an encouraging smile before squeezing his hands. 

"Alright, you just say yes or no, I only have a couple questions." Derek nodded. "Are you here because you want me to take care of you sexually?" 

"Yeah, please," Derek almost whined. He was shifting, trying to get friction from nothing. 

"Good, Puppy, you're so good," Stiles hummed. "Are you okay with me taking control?"

Derek nodded. Stiles knew Derek was more than okay with Stiles taking control, but after a moment Derek realized why. 

They hadnt had sex yet. Not like this. And Derek had never gotten anal, and it was his first heat. Stiles was asking because this was serious. 

Derek let out an embarrassing whine, head falling forward. 

"Hey, look at me." Derek did, barely lifting his head. "You don't need to feel embarrassed," he reassured. "This is natural and totally normal. You're safe with me, Puppy."

"I don't need a heat," Derek whined, fingers twitching in Stiles' hands, itching to give himself release. "I can't get you pregnant, I shouldn't be in heat."

"I know," Stiles hummed, standing up. He kept ahold of Derek's hands and guided him to stand as well. "I know it seems really humiliating and unnecessary but I'm gonna make you feel so good. I'll show you it can be fun, okay Puppy?"

Derek followed Stiles from the table, towards the living room. "Okay." Stiles smiled and tugged him towards the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to be a lit longer than normal and full of sex. Next chapter has no plot at all!! I'm writing it as we speak and I'm about halfway finished with it! 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Peter and Malia are back, and Cora is finishing up school here pretty soon, so Derek will have a family close by! 
> 
> Wonder how Peter and Malia will like Stiles! 🤔🤔


	17. Chapter 17

Stiles got Derek out of his clothes and had him lay on the bed, getting under the covers. Derek immediately rolled onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow Stiles used every night. 

Stiles was quick to strip his clothes off, opening the drawer. Derek looked over to see Stiles pull out a condom from an almost empty box and grab a half bottle of lube. 

With items in hand, he lifted the blanket, crawling in beside Derek. Derek rolled over, letting Stiles drape the blanket over them before pressing a kiss to Derek's mouth. 

"I'm gonna suck you off," Stiles said before dropping under the covers. Derek whined, rolling his hips up into the blanket as Stiles shimmied down the bed and settled between Derek's legs. 

He felt the wet warmth encircle the tip of his cock and Derek keened, back arching and hips rolling as Stiles took more of him in. 

Derek never came faster in his life. He didnt have time to warn Stiles. The tattooed man let out a noise, the sound vibrating against Derek. The orgasm didn't seem to put a dent in Derek's heat at all. 

Derek reached down, hands hooking under Stiles' arms and yanking him up. Stiles chuckled when he poked his head up from the blanket, hair a bird's nest and staticky. 

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles' shoulders, wanting Stiles closer. He wanted their skin to meld together, to feel Stiles in every inch of him. They kissed, sloppy and wet. Derek could taste himself on Stiles' tongue, it made his dick hard all over again. 

"More," Derek growled against Stiles' pierced lower lip. "Please, I need more."

Stiles pulled back a little, snatching the bottle of lube from beside them and squirting a bit onto his first two fingers. Derek rutted against his dick, heels digging into the pillow. 

"Mhh," Stiles breathily moaned, leaning back a little. "Bend your knees for me, Puppy."

Derek did. Stiles kissed his left knee before bringing his lubed fingers to Derek's asshole, circling before pressing slowly in. 

Derek gasped, feeling the two fingers pressed firmly. His fingers finally breached and Derek gripped at the blanket around them. 

"You're so good," Stiles hummed, using his thumb to massage Derek's perineum, slowly pushing in and out of him. Derek knew he could cum on just Stiles' fingers alone, but he curled his fingers around himself anyway, pumping himself to the rhythm of Stiles' fingers. 

"God, you're so pretty for me," Stiles grinned, pressing in further when Derek's muscles relaxed. "You're doing so good."

Derek whined, head pressing into the pillow, back arching. He rolled his hips forward, pressing Stiles' fingers into a new spot. 

Stiles pushed his fingers in until they couldn't go any further, curling and twisting them inside before pulling them put again. 

When he pushed in again, he added a third finger, stretching Derek. It hurt, but it felt so fucking good, and Derek wanted to feel that stretch forever. Stiles pressed in a little further. 

"You doing okay?" Stiles asked, hooded by the blanket. Derek rolled his hips into Stiles' fingers, heels pressed into the bed. 

"Okay," Derek huffed, hand still working himself up. Stiles pressed in further, three fingers going in to the second knuckle. Derek's rim stretched further when Stiles pushed past, burying his tattooed spider leg fingers to the hilt. 

Derek came hard, his mouth falling open as his body shook. Stiles continued stroking his insides, stoking the flame to an almost painful burn as cum streaked across his tensed stomach. 

When he finally opened his eyes, they caught Stiles' and he felt even more out of breath. Stiles' eyes were dilated, honey whiskey brown barely seen. His mouth was open, a hungry look on his face as he continued fingering Derek. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, paying special attention to his piercings before sucking one into his mouth. 

"I'm going to get ready, okay?" Stiles hummed, voice strained. Derek clenched around Stiles' fingers when he tried to pull out, a whine leaving his throat. 

"No."

Stiles smirked, pressing his fingers back in, pressing into Derek's prostate and making Derek mewl. He leaned forward, kissing Derek sweetly. Derek responded needily, whimpering. 

"I'm going to get the condom on," Stiles said, pulling away to look Derek in the eyes. "I need both hands."

Derek let out another whine before nodding. He was hard again. Stiles pulled his fingers free, leaving Derek feeling empty. He shifted his hips, eyes trained on Stiles kneeling between his legs, ripping the condom package open. 

Stiles lubed his cock, exhaling through his nose at the feel before he rolled the condom down, sheathing the piercings.

He added more lube to the condom before shifting onto his hands and knees, bringing his body over Derek's. 

"Do you want to do it just like this?" Stiles asked. "Or would you rather be on your stomach."

"Wanna see you," Derek said, lifting his head to reach Stiles' mouth. Stiles smiled into the kiss before grabbing the back of Derek's left knee and bringing it closer to Derek's chest. 

"Wrap your leg around me, Puppy," Stiles hummed, placing wet open mouthed kisses to Derek's collarbones. Derek lifted his right leg up, draping it over Stiles' lower back. 

"You're so good," Stiles smiled. The hand holding Derek's left leg shifted so now it rested against the inside of Stiles' arm. Derek shifted a bit with the new position, one hand grabbing Stiles' forearm while the other one curled around his neck, pulling him down to his mouth. 

Stiles lined them up, and Derek whimpered into his mouth when he felt the dull tip of Stiles' cock press against his hole. 

"You ready, Puppy?" Stiles asked. Derek nodded, chin tilted up to expose his neck. Stiles swooped down to suck on his skin. 

Derek braced himself when he felt Stiles push, his hole opening around his head before Stiles stilled. Derek growled, rolling his hips, digging his right leg into Stiles' lower back. 

"More," he demanded, eyes flashing blue. Stiles pushed in further, and Derek groaned when he felt the first piercing of the Jacob's ladder press past his rim. 

Derek counted five piercings, and then Stiles was buried completely. Derek felt full, could feel the tip of Stiles' cock pressing into his stomach in the most delicious way. 

He didn't think Stiles would be able to fit -his soulmate wasn't very wide, but he was longer than most, and Derek was surprised he could push in so far. 

"You're inside," Derek breathed. Stiles laughed a little, nodding. Both of them looked down to where they were connected, Stiles disappearing where Derek started. It was a foreign feeling, but not completely unpleasant. 

He was just glad he was fully cognizant. He wanted to be. He wanted to be mentally here while Stiles fucked into him. He experimentally rolled his hips, pulling a moan from both himself and Stiles. 

Derek barely paid the drying cum on his stomach any mind as he rolled his hips again, reaching for Stiles, wanting him closer, deeper. 

"Move," Derek begged, voice barely above a whisper. "Please, move."

Stiles smiled, dropping his head to kiss him before slowly pulling out. Derek felt the ridges of piercings and groaned. 

Stiles pushed back in. It was easier the second time around, and Derek breathed when he bottomed out. It wasn't long before Stiles found a rhythm. In and out, in and out, in, out, in, out. 

Derek felt pleasure building with every thrust, the soft slap of skin on skin and their heavy breathing filling Derek's ears. 

"Faster," Derek demanded. Stiles did, little noises leaving his parted mouth as he fucked into Derek. 

Derek matched his noises with noises of his own; light moans, soft whines, breathy grunts. 

"You feel so good," Stiles gasped, eyes fluttering closed as he rocked into Derek. He shifted, leaning back so he was sitting on his heels. Derek shifted with him, placing his feet on the bed on either side of Stiles. 

Stiles thrust into him again, the new angle hitting a bundle of nerves inside Derek. "Hnngh." 

Derek lifted a hand, palm against the headboard to keep in place as Stiles continued to drive into him. 

Three more quick thrusts and Derek was cumming again, just as sharp and all-consuming as the last two. Stiles continued to thrust into him, dragging the orgasm out to an almost painful length. 

Stiles stilled, hands on Derek's hips, where his legs were bent, thumb brushing against the soul mark. 

"Keep going," Derek breathed. 

"Are you sure?" Stiles asked, fingers petting at his sides. Derek nodded. Stiles smiled a little before he started up again. Derek was sensitive -more so than before- and he closed his eyes, holding tighter to Stiles. 

"My pretty little wolf," Stiles hummed, thrusting in and out in a quick pace. Derek's chest swells. Stiles cums not long after, shooting his load into the condom with a loud cry, hips stuttering. 

Derek whines when Stiles pulls out, leaving him empty. Stiles takes the condom off, throwing it to the side of the bed. 

"How do you feel?" Stiles asks, laying on his side beside Derek. The blanket falls into the puddle of cum on Derek's stomach, but neither seem to worry about it. Derek can feel himself getting hard again and let's out a whimper. 

"Restless," Derek grunted, wrapping his arms around Stiles and pulling him closer. He buries his face into Stiles' neck, biting him with dull teeth. Stiles let's out a shivering breath. 

"You're doing so well," Stiles praised, not at all concerned with the fact he was laying in the cum on Derek's stomach. "My good Puppy."

Derek pulled his head back, seeing the indents of his teeth in Stiles' trapezius muscle, the skin turning a little pink from the pressure. He wanted to bite it until it bled. He lifted his eyes up to catch Stiles', letting the younger man kiss him soundly. 

"Can we do that again?" Derek asked when it got too hard to ignore -the need to fuck and cum and sweat. He was painfully hard now, and he rutted against Stiles' thigh for relief. 

"Of course we can," Stiles grinned, eyes twinkling. "We can fuck as long and as often as you want. And I'm not just talking about today."

Derek huffed, smiling a little as he licked at Stiles' jaw, sucking at the skin there before Stiles was getting up. He reached over for the bedside table, but Derek snatched his wrist up, tugging him back. 

"No condom," Derek said, nosing at his chest. 

"Are you sure?" Stiles asked, fingers brushing against Derek's ribs. "My piercings can get a little uncomfortable."

"I'm sure," Derek nodded, licking at one of Stiles' nipples until he leaned back, lowering himself to kiss Derek softly. 

"Do you need me to stretch you more?"

Derek shook his head, bending his legs. His hands held behind his knees, keeping himself in place. Stiles' eyes darkened at the sight, looking over Derek in a hungry way before groaning. 

"You're killing me, Puppy," he sighed, hands splayed out on Derek's thighs, brushing down to his ass. "Look at you. So beautiful, just for me. My pretty little wolf."

Derek huffed, growling a little before eyeing Stiles. "Look later, fuck me now."

Stiles laughed, but moved closer, raising to his knees and tugging on his pierced cock. "Bossy, bossy."

Derek let out a drawn out moan when Stiles pushed into him. It was a completely different feeling having Stiles go in bare. He could feel the metal balls of the piercing more firmly against his rim and walls, could feel the bulge of his head breach the entrance with a sinful pop. 

Stiles fucked him cautiously at first, making sure Derek wasn't too uncomfortable with the piercings constantly catching on his rim, but after seeing how Derek's body reacted to it had him abandoning caution. 

He fucked into Derek hard, placing his hands on Derek's knees and pushing his legs further into his chest until Derek's ass and lower back was off the bed. 

Derek let out panty grunts with each thrust, orgasming hard. Stiles kept going, leaning in to kiss Derek hard and sloppy. 

Derek didnt realize he had dropped fang until Stiles ran his tongue over them, eliciting a growl from the werewolf. Stiles smirked against his mouth, and then he was grabbing Derek's dick. 

It didnt take long for Derek to grow hard all over again. This had never happened to him before. During sex, he'd only managed to cum three times in a night, and if he came again, he'd be on number five. 

He wondered how long Stiles could last. He hoped a while. He didnt want to resort to other methods if Stiles couldn't last. 

But it didnt seem like he was having a problem now as he fucked into Derek, using one hand to tug him back to full hardness. 

"F-fuck," Derek growled. "Please, more. Need more."

Derek didnt know what more he could want -Stiles was already doing what he needed- but he felt like he needed more. So much more. To mark Stiles, to cum all over him, to have Stiles cum inside him, and even then, more than that. 

Stiles' pace picked up, the sound of skin on skin and the noises leaving their lips pushing Derek to the edge all over again. 

Cum pooled in his belly button, dripped down Derek's sides and soiled the bedding. It was a mess, but Derek didn't care. Not when Stiles was panting above him, thrusting into him, rolling his hips in a sinuous way that made Derek's mouth water. 

Stiles was sweating now, his skin tacky, but he kept going, and Derek lifted his hips a little more until Stiles was slamming into his prostate over and over again. 

"Oh, my God," Stiles panted, mouth parted. A punched out noise left Derek's mouth with every thrust. He was getting painful, but it wasn't enough. 

He was overwhelmed and oversensitive, and his eyes were watering as Stiles slammed into his prostate again and again until Derek's cock was full and hard again, but it wasn't enough. 

Stiles came with a shudder, rocking through the orgasm and pushing cum deep into Derek's ass. His arms shook, hands gripping Derek's knees tightly as he continued thrusting. 

Derek came on a wail, loud and white hot. He might've blacked out for a second. When he came back, his breathing was ragged, his body sore in an almost too painful way. Stiles pulled out with a wince, letting Derek's legs go. 

"Jesus, Puppy," Stiles huffed, sitting back against his heels. Derek let his legs fall open, letting them straighten out on either side of Stiles as he tried to control his breathing. 

"That was number six," Stiles said, sounding impressed and bewildered. "How the fuck are you not dry yet?"

Derek couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh, wiping his eyes dry with numb fingers. For the moment he was too exhausted to feel the effects of his heat, and he took reprieve in that, settling his body into thr soiled sheets. 

"I don't know," Derek managed to rasp out. It must be because of the heat. Before, after the third orgasm, it was too painful to start up again, and if he did manage it, he didnt get off. He was in new territory here. 

"Let's get cleaned up," Stiles said. "Maybe get something to eat."

Derek wanted to say no, wanted to pull Stiles back to his chest and impale himself on Stiles' jeweled cock and keep going until he couldnt anymore. 

But his body hurt, his muscles ached. His dick twitched in valiant protest, but Derek knew it would take a minute before he was ready to go another round, even if in the middle of his first heat. 

Stiles stood up, bending down to grab a shirt from the floor. Derek's eyes landed on his ass, watching the skin pull tight as he bent forward, showing off his pink hole. Derek groaned, blood rushing to his cock again. 

He wanted to be inside. He wanted to knot. The thought had Derek shifting a bit, feeling Stiles' cum inside him begin to dribble out and onto the sheets. 

Stiles straightened and climbed back into bed, the blanket long ago shoved to the end of the bed. He used the shirt to wipe off the cum on Derek's stomach. 

"You're hard again," Stiles commented with a smirk, tossing the shirt to the end of the bed. The need to knot was growing. Derek had never knotted before, but he could feel it at the base of his cock. 

"I don't think I'm ready for round three quite yet," Stiles hummed, moving to kiss Derek's mouth. "Will my mouth do?"

Derek wanted to say yes. He was intimate with Stiles' mouth, loved how Stiles circled his tongue and hollowed his cheeks and sucked, but he knew that wasn't what he needed and he whimpered into the kiss. 

"Wan' to knot," he growled, hands grabbing at Stiles' side, wrapping around him and burying his face in Stiles' shoulder. "Wanna bite you."

Stiles shuddered, his own very human whine leaving his lips. He pulled back enough to kiss Derek again, all teeth and tongue and spit. 

"You have no idea how much I want that, Puppy," Stiles groaned. He grinned down at Derek with a needy tired look in his eyes. "I've never been knotted before."

Derek's eyebrows dropped. "You haven't?" Derek asked. It made him incomprehensibly happy to know Stiles had never had another 'wolf's knot buried inside him. He wanted to be the only one. 

"Knots are for mated 'wolves," Stiles said, voice soft and gravelly at the same time. "I don't sleep with people already mated."

"You slept with me," Derek couldn't help but say, grinning up at Stiles. 

"Hmm, yes I did," Stiles rolled his hips against Derek's, pulling out a moan from the werewolf. "And I'm going to sleep with you every day for the rest of our lives."

Derek watched as Stiles reached his hand behind him, his eyes widening when he realized Stiles was fingering himself. Derek let out a noise, surging up to sit and kiss at whatever he could reach. 

Derek could tell when Stiles moved to two fingers, listening to his breath hitch a little. Derek wanted to see, wanted to watch Stiles' fingers disappear in his ass. 

He palmed at himself with one hand, his other hand snaking around to grab at Stiles' ass. Stiles rolled his hips, panting softly and making Derek all the more horny. 

"Go ahead, Puppy," Stiles breathed, nodding when Derek's hand moved closer to Stiles'. Derek's heart jumped. Stiles pulled his fingers out, grabbing Derek's hand and manipulating his fingers until his first two were out, the others folded into his palm. 

"Try it," Stiles encouraged on a breath. He guided Derek's hand closer, brushing his fingers against himself before removing his hand entirely. 

Derek looked up at Stiles' face as he pressed in, watching his eyelids flutter. Derek pushed in further, feeling how Stiles squeezed around his fingers. 

"Good," he groaned, hands on Derek's shoulders. "Just like that."

Derek blushed, working his fingers in and out the way Stiles had done to him. The only difference was Derek was inexperienced in being fingers and fingering, and Stiles knew what he was doing. 

He rolled his ass into Derek's fingers, pulling them in deeper. Derek just watched, enamored with Stiles above him. 

Derek scissored his fingers, punching a breath out of Stiles, who grinded down on Derek's hand. 

"Add another," Stiles demanded. Derek did, feeling the stretch of Stiles' asshole trying to fit him in. With his other hand, he tugged on his own cock, not enough to cum, but to give him a bit of relief as Stiles fucked himself on his fingers. 

They stayed like that for a few more minutes before Stiles leaned to the side, sifting through thr blankets until he found the bottle of lube. It was almost gone. 

Stiles squirted a healthy bit onto his palm before swatting Derek's hand away and lathering his dick. Derek moaned at the feeling of Stiles' slick hand gliding over him. 

Derek's fingers fell out of his ass when Stiles got up, kneeling in front of Derek and gesturing for him to get up. 

When he did kneel, he felt Stiles' cum run down the back of his thigh. Stiles knee walked to the headboard, back facing Derek. 

"Come here, Puppy," Stiles demanded softly. Derek did, wrapping his arms around Stiles' middle, draping his chest over him so they were flush. Derek's dick slotted between Stiles' ass cheeks, making both men shudder. 

Derek left open mouthed kisses on Stiles' neck, rutting against his ass with little high pitched whines. His hands moved, running over Stiles' front, fingers tracing the lines of muscle on his stomach, following the shape of his hip down to his pelvis. 

"Quit teasing," Stiles groaned, jutting his ass back into Derek. Derek let out a whine at the pressure. He pulled one of his hands back, grabbing his cock to line the head with Stiles' entrance. 

It was easy to slide in after the head popped inside. Stiles let out a groan at the feel, and when Derek was in as far as he could go, Stiles rolled his hips, pulling a strangled noise from Derek. 

"You feel so good, Puppy," Stiles sighed, one hand reaching back to thread fingers through Derek's hair. Derek mouthed at Stiles' neck, drawing back before pushing himself in again. 

It was easy to find a rhythm between them. Stiles held onto the headboard to steady the two of them, and Derek held onto Stiles. They fucked on their knees, and Derek whined and rumbled and grunted in Stiles' ear. 

He picked up pace when he felt his knot grow, managed to look down to see the barely there knot at his base press into Stiles before popping out again. 

He brought his mouth back to Stiles' shoulder, working a cloud of hickies across his pale skin. 

The soft punched out "ah, ah, ah," spilling from Stiles with every thrust had Derek's teeth sharpening in want. The knot got bigger, and Stiles' punched out sounds got throatier, his grip on the head board tightening. 

It started to catch on Stiles' rim, the knot continuing to grow the closer Derek came to a seventh orgasm. 

And then it swelled too big, and Derek tried to pull out and got stuck. He whined, pushing back in and curling his arms around Stiles, locking him in place. 

The knot was huge, settled just behind Stiles' rim. Stiles' walls seemed too narrow to be able to fit him. Derek felt his skin prickle with the oncoming orgasm. 

He rolled his hips as best he could, his mouth finding the curve of Stiles' neck where it met his shoulder, licking and sucking, needing to bite down and mark him. 

"Oh, my God," Stiles gasped out, dropping his head onto Derek's shoulder. His back was sweaty against Derek's chest, his scent overwhelming. 

Derek licked at the spot on his shoulder, opening his mouth and setting his teeth on his skin. He rolled his hips, arms tightening when he felt his orgasm painfully close. 

Stiles' heartbeat was loud and rabbit fast, but he didnt push Derek's mouth away, so he bit down just as the orgasm tore through him. 

Stiles let out a loud yell, hand finding Derek's hair and fisting, body shuddering as Derek came inside him, drawing blood from his shoulder. 

Stiles came seconds later, his walls flexing and milking Derek's knot, drawing more from him. 

Derek pulled his mouth from Stiles, blood on his tongue and teeth. He looked down at the bite mark, seeing the blood well up slowly. He licked it clean, nuzzling into Stiles, who was just barely catching his breath, his own orgasm too much for him. 

"Are you alright?" Derek asked softly, knot still keeping him buried deep inside, keeping him hard. 

"Sh-shit," Stiles managed. "Holy shit. That was incredible."

Derek let out an embarrassed noise, cheeks flaming pink as he nosed at the bite mark on his shoulder. Stiles let go of the headboard, allowing Derek to support his weight. 

"You're going to do that again," he continued, arms circling around Derek's, intertwining their fingers. Derek didn't answer, just lapped at the bite mark again, pulling a shudder out of Stiles. 

"Can we lay down?" Derek asked softly against his skin. The knot made no sign of going down anytime soon, and his knees were starting to hurt. Stiles nodded. 

It was a strange maneuver, the two locked into place as they moved down the bed. They were just moving to lay down, when Stiles pulled a little. 

Derek yelped, whole body stilling as his knot tugged at Stiles' rim, cum seeping from his spent but painfully hard dick. 

"Did you just fucking cum again?" Stiles asked incredulously, turning his head to look at Derek with wide eyes and a shit-eating grin. 

Derek nodded with a whine and curled an arm around Stiles' waist, keeping him in place while the two laid down on their side, making sure Stiles didn't tug on him again. 

When they were settled, Stiles shifted his shoulders, keeping his ass pressed against Derek's hips. Derek tucked his head forward, pressing a kiss to Stiles' lips, holding Stiles tight. 

"I'm starving," Stiles grunted, pulling back to look at Derek. "Really wished we took that snack break."

Derek buried his head in Stiles' throat. "Do you think we could make it to the kitchen like this?"

Derek lifted his head to look at him incredulously. "We could barely get horizontal."

Stiles laughed, tilting his head to kiss Derek's jaw. He huffed as he settled with his back to Derek's chest. Derek looked at the bite mark. It had stopped bleeding, and he could make out the half circles of his teeth. It would scar probably. It would be barely visible, but Derek would know it was there. 

"What if we just-"

Stiles shifted and the noise that barked out of Derek's mouth could only be compared to the sound a dog makes when you step on its tail. 

Derek grabbed Stiles and rolled them so Stiles was on his stomach, Derek draped over him. He let out a whine into Stiles' shoulderblade as more cum filled Stiles. 

"S-stop doing that," he growled, pinching his eyes shut. His body was shaking over Stiles', too spent and nearly empty. "Please. If I cum anymore I'm going to pass out."

Stiles laughed under him. "Still don't know how you're not dry yet."

"Its the heat," Derek sighed. "I read about it in high school."

"I'm dry," Stiles hummed, head to the side. Derek pressed a tired kiss to his cheek. "Or almost. I think I could go again."

Derek shook his head. "Do it yourself, I'm too tired." Stiles laughed again, the noise breathy with Derek's weight on him. 

"Okay, I wont move, get off me," Stiles grunted after a couple seconds. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, keeping him close before rolling back to his side. 

The sun was setting, but it was still light enough to see. He realized he hadn't been home since this morning. He hadnt told either Peter or Malia were he was going. 

He turned his head back to look behind him, where his pants were left abandoned on the floor. He didnt remember taking his clothes off, or taking Stiles' off. 

"What is it?" Stiles asked, looking back when Derek settled with a sigh. 

"I forgot to tell my uncle where I was," he said, nuzzling into Stiles' shoulder, careful of the bruised skin. He had paid way too much attention to the one shoulder, and it looked like a patchwork of pink and purple skin with flecks of moles and teeth marks.

"Hold on," Stiles hummed. Derek's eyes widened and he tightened his hold on Stiles, not wanting another tugging incident. 

Then he smelled the ozone and petrichor scent of Stiles' magic, and he lifted his head to look at his face. His brows were furrowed, eyes white. 

His arm was reared back, and when the whites of his eyes receded to show off his beautiful honey whiskey irises, he smiled. He hold Derek's phone in front of them. 

"How'd you do that?" Derek asked, taking the phone from him. He remembered Stiles doing that when Derek and Cora had been strung up. He'd taken the knife out of Derek's chest without touching it. 

"You ever seen Star Wars?" Stiles asked, smirking over at Derek. Derek huffed and rolled his eyes. He had. 

"Technically its telekinesis, but the force sounds so much cooler," Stiles said, settling back to face forward. "Plus, I can shoot lightning out of my fingers like Darth Sidious."

Derek huffed a laugh, opening his phone to text Peter that he was with Stiles and not to worry. 

"I like you better than Darth Sidious," Derek hummed, dropping his phone into the bed in front of them. 

"I would hope so," Stiles yawned. Derek yawned too, making Stiles laugh a little. They wordlessly snuggled closer together, holding each other. 

Derek had no idea how long the knot will last, he heard it could take hours for the swelling to go down, or minutes, but right now it was still the same size and slowly releasing his sperm into Stiles like a leaky faucet. Any tugging from Stiles' end just made it come out harder and more painful. 

The two fell asleep together, connected for however long they'd be. Derek was glad for the break in his heat, and hoped it was finished when he woke up. But it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. He might be able to handle his heat twice a year, if Stiles was there to help him through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is twice as long as my other chapters because I didn't want to cut it in half! Let me know what you guys think!!!


	18. Chapter 18

Derek and Stiles woke up at the same time to the feeling of the knot going down. It must've started while they were asleep, but at some point Stiles had shifted, and Derek's eyes had snapped open, ready to stop him, only to notice the size had gone down. 

"I'm going to pull out," Derek warned. When Stiles nodded, Derek shifted, placing a hand on Stiles' hip before pulling back. The knot was still big enough to catch on Stiles' rim, and Stiles let out a noise of complaint. 

Derek grunted and pulled himself free, watching as Stiles' rim stretched wide before snapping down around his shaft again. 

Derek's cock was covered in cum when he finally pulled out. He drops onto his back, cock falling onto his stomach. 

"Holy shit," Stiles groans, rolling onto his stomach. "I'm so full." It took Derek a couple seconds to realize what he was saying, and he let out an embarrassed noise. 

"I almost want to plug up to keep it all in," Stiles grinned, shifting to lean over Derek and plant a kiss to his mouth. 

"Like with a butt plug?" Derek asked when they pulled apart. Stiles nodded with a grin before reaching across Derek to the bedside table drawer that held his condoms and lube. 

He yanked it open, searching blindly for a moment before pulling his arm back with what he wanted. He dropped it on Derek's chest, and Derek picked it up to inspect it. 

It was smaller than he thought it would be, but it was thick and black with a plastic blue gem on the top. 

"Have you ever used one?" Stiles asked, taking the plug from him. Derek shook his head. "Would you want to?"

"Yeah," Derek found himself saying. He had no desire before. But with Stiles, he wanted to try it. He would probably agree to bringing toys into the bedroom if Stiles suggested it, only because it was Stiles. 

Stiles grinned before licking the butt plug. Derek's eyes followed his tongue, his mouth going dry. He was too exhausted to get hard again, thankfully. 

"Why don't you put it in for me, and then we can clean up," Stiles suggested when the plug was sufficiently wet. Derek got up, taking the plug from him and moving to straddle Stiles' legs. 

The tree tattoo on Stiles' back contrasted deliciously with his pale skin. Derek used his hand to pull one of Stiles' cheeks open, momentarily pausing when he saw a bead of cum spill from his hole. 

The plug was momentarily forgotten as Derek reached both thumbs forward, pulling Stiles apart to see just how much cum was inside. Stiles shifted a bit, letting out a noise as Derek pulled him open a little more. 

More cum spilled out. Derek watched mesmerized as it dripped down his perineum and to his balls. Derek let go, watching the muscles move back into place before leaning forward. 

He knew it was his own cum he licked off Stiles' balls, but he didnt care. He licked it all away, making Stiles moan loudly as he licked at him. When he was clean again, Derek put the tip of the plug against his hole and pressed in. 

His ass opened for it, nearly sucking it in until it sat snug, the blue gem covering the ring of muscle. 

Stiles hummed and rolled over, sitting up and moving closer to Derek. His eyes dropped to Derek's dick, taking in the knot that was still there, but smaller. 

"You're so God damn pretty," Stiles groaned, leaning forward to kiss Derek softly. 

"Okay," he huffed when he pulled back. "Now that I wont get cum on my carpet, I think we should take a shower."

Derek would rather go to sleep, but he knew a shower would make him feel better. He was covered in sweat and cum, and he was sure there was blood somewhere. 

Stiles wasn't fairing much better, so the two of them crawled out of bed and headed across the hall to the bathroom. 

"Oh, hungry," Stiles hummed, turning around and leaving the bathroom once the light was turned on. Derek followed, the soreness in his muscles beginning to fade with his healing. 

Stiles opened the cupboard, snatching a box of pretzel sticks and grabbing two. He handed one to Derek, and then chewed his on the side of his mouth like the cartoon rabbit from the show his sisters used to watch when they were younger. 

They ate as they walked back to the bathroom, Stiles turning on the shower and keeping his hand under the spray until he deemed it warm enough, and then ushered Derek inside first. 

The hot water felt amazing on his stiff muscles and Derek groaned at the feeling as Stiles stepped in and shut the curtain. 

He plastered himself against Derek's back, curling his arms lazily around Derek's waist and resting his chin on Derek's shoulder. 

"We'll definitely need to be more prepared next time," Stiles hummed, and Derek could feel him smirking into his shoulder, kissing at the same spot Derek had bitten him. It made Derek shiver a little. 

"How was it?"

Derek turned around in his hold, lifting his arms so they rested on either side of Stiles' head. 

"Better than I thought it would be," Derek confessed. He didnt feel like he was in heat anymore, which he was eternally greatful for. He didnt know if he could manage another day of constant orgasms, no matter how good they were. 

"Good," Stiles smiled. "Now lets get cleaned up. I'm exhausted and we still have to strip the bed."

Derek nodded and pulled his arms away to grab at Stiles' shampoo. Stiles reached behind him and pulled thr plug out now that they were in the shower and instantly let out a laugh. 

"What?" Derek asked. 

"Theres a lot in there," Stiles laughed, setting the plug on the small shelf in the shower before switching spots with Derek to stand under the stream of water. 

Derek squirted shampoo into his hand before slathering it into his wet hair. Stiles washed his skin first, using a loofah covered in soap to scrub at every inch of skin. 

"I'm pretty sure theres cum on my back," Stiles grunted, still grinning as he bent his arm back, struggling to get his back. 

"Here," Derek hummed, grabbing the loofah and forcing Stiles to turn around. He scrubbed over his back from his neck down to his ass, over the round cheeks and down the back of his thighs. 

"Your turn, Puppy," Stiles said when he turned around. Derek handed the loofah over and turned around, letting Stiles wash his backside. 

Only Stiles washed his front too when he was finished. Derek was learning quickly how Stiles loved washing him, taking care to gently clean him from head to toe. 

It was different from his usual touches, which always promised something sexual was on the way. No, when Stiles and Derek showered together, Stiles took care of him with no intention of doing anything else. 

It made Derek's heart flutter in his chest, to feel so cared for in a new intimacy he never experienced before. 

He was careful to wash Derek's cock, using his hand with soap, feather light. Derek held back a whine at the attention to his still sensitive skin, but Stiles' touch didnt linger. 

When they finished, Stiles stepped out and grabbed two towels. They dried off, and left the towels bundled on the floor. Derek slipped into his old boxers having just put them on earlier that morning, and helped Stiles pull the soiled sheets off the bed. 

Neither had the energy to put the fitted sheet on, so they skipped it, putting down the linen and then the blanket before crawling in. 

They moved in close, sharing breath and holding each other like they hadn't been tangled up all afternoon. 

"Stiles?" Derek asked softly once the two had been settled for a while. He lifted his head a bit to see Stiles' eyes were closed, but he knew he wasnt sleeping. 

"Hmm?"

Derek buried his face back into Stiles' neck, nuzzling there and inhaling his scent now clouded with soap. 

"If I left," he said, exhaling a little. "Would you come with me?"

Stiles shifted a little, using a hand to tilt Derek's head up so they were looking at each other. Derek knew Stiles probably couldnt see much, but Derek saw him clearly in the dark, could see his eyes flitting back and forth. 

"I'd go anywhere with you, Puppy," Stiles said sincerely. "You're mine forever. If you wanted to move to Alaska I'd follow you."

Derek's chest swelled and he had to inhale to keep from feeling like he would explode. 

"I mean, I'd have some major complaints about the weather," Stiles continued, smirking. Derek couldnt help but huff out a laugh, burying his face back into Stiles, holding him tight. 

The two settled down again, and Derek was sure that was the end of it, but he was pleasantly surprised when Stiles spoke again, his voice low in the quiet bedroom. 

"You're the only person I have," he said. "I was fine being alone before, but I dont think I'd be able to survive now without you."

Derek pressed closer to Stiles, pushing him until he was on his back. Derek rolled on top of him, holding him tightly, and hating that they weren't closer. He wanted to melt into Stiles, mould into one person and live trapped in Stiles' skin.

He kissed at Stiles' neck, from his collarbones up to his jawline, over his cheeks and then his mouth, hoping this told Stiles just how much Derek cared. How Derek would never leave him, would take him everywhere. 

He wanted to tell Stiles how he felt. Wanted to say those three words, knew that was what he felt every time his chest swelled. Every time he inhaled because he felt like he'd suffocate. 

But he couldnt. So he kissed Stiles and held him close and whined until he was too tired to go on; and even then, when the two were settled, Derek nuzzled him, held him, breathed him in. 

He didnt remember when he had fallen asleep, but he woke up to the sun shining through the blinds in the apartment. Stiles was wrapped around him like an octopus, snoring softly against his chest with his mouth parted, nose pressing into the underside of Derek's jaw. 

He shifted a little, which surprised Stiles into awakeness. He inhaled sharply, sitting up with a rush and blinking blearily.

Derek stretched, body finally all healed up from the day before. "G'mornin'," he rasped out, huffing at Stiles' way of waking up. 

Stiles' honey whiskey eyes dropped to him, that sleep heavy frown turning to a smile when their eyes locked. He leaned forward, kissing Derek softly before settling back onto his side. 

"Morning," Stiles hummed. He stretched out, arms lifting over his head. He yawned, and Derek heard his back cracking in a few places. Stiles hummed in appreciation before looking at Derek with a fondness in his eyes. 

"What do you want for breakfast this morning?" He asked. Derek wasn't thinking of breakfast. He shrugged, grabbing Stiles and pulling him flush against his chest, kissing him softly, not going any deeper than sleep soft pecks. 

"I'm craving some cinnamon toast crunch," Stiles said between kisses. 

"Hmm, yeah," Derek agreed. Neither moved to get out of bed for another twenty minutes. When they did, they didnt bother getting dressed. They were both in just their boxers, bare feet padding across the linoleum floor of the kitchen. 

Stiles pulled down two bowls while Derek got the milk. Stiles poured the cereal into the bowls and Derek curled his arms around him from behind, chin on Stiles' shoulder. 

"You put your cereal in before the milk?" He asked, faking incredulous. Stiles set the box of cereal on the counter a little harsher than necessary, which only made Derek's grin widen. 

"I swear to fucking God, Derek," Stiles huffed. "I can't believe I just had sex with-" he spun around in Derek's hold, scowl in place. He cut himself off when Derek broke into a fit of laughter. "You were joking."

Derek nodded, still laughing as he pulled Stiles closer. Stiles huffed an amused sound, slapping his arm before wiggling back around. "I hate you."

Derek managed to collect himself. He resumed his spot behind Stiles, chin on shoulder and watched him pour the milk in. 

"You're so passionate about food etiquette," Derek pointed out when Stiles shoved his bowl into his hands. 

"I'm not passionate," Stiles huffed, spooning cereal into his mouth. "I just know how to eat it!"

Derek huffed a laugh, taking a bite of his own. They both leaned against the counter, shoulders brushing as they ate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After sex is probably my favorite thing to write! I love how soft they are together and how relaxed around each other they become! 
> 
> A little heads up, were going to be seeing some more angst soon! Gerard and Kate are coming to be making an appearance, but so is Cora and an old friend of Stiles'! 
> 
> Let me know what you think!!


	19. Chapter 19

Derek was nervous. Stiles was going to meet Peter and Malia for the first time, and he was fucking nervous. 

It was different with Cora -she was like Derek. Peter and Malia were different, more on the feral side. Werewolves lived on the line of human and wolf, some more human and others more wolf. 

Peter had been more wolf than human even before the fire. After, he was a little less human, and when Laura died, it nearly broke the human part of Peter completely. 

Malia was the same, more coyote than human, in a different way. She had managed a full shift when she was young and had been stuck as a coyote from the age of eight to sixteen. Derek and Peter had been the ones to find her after Peter found out about her. 

Derek was worried they wouldnt accept Stiles as pack, as family. He especially worried about Peter. He and Stiles were really similar in their sarcasm and quick snarky comments. 

What if the two stepped on each others toes? What if Stiles -or Peter- said something and the other got upset?

And what about Malia? She was so untrusting of everyone. She could be so dense at times, could be mean. Derek just wanted them to like Stiles. And he wanted Stiles to like them back. 

He wanted them to be a pack. He wanted Cora and Peter and Malia to accept Stiles not only as Derek's mate but as family. 

"Hey, relax," Stiles huffed, hand clasped in Derek's, fingers threaded together. "Its going to be okay."

"I know," Derek huffed. Stiles smiled, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek. 

"You weren't this nervous about me meeting Cora, and we'd only known each other a week at that point," Stiles reminded him. "We're going on four months now, I think we'll be okay."

The reminder made Derek smile. He squeezed Stiles' hand in thanks, the two of them heading for the door to his building. 

When Derek pulled the industrial barn door open, Peter was in the kitchen, and Malia was on his couch. 

She looked up, eyebrows raising as she took in Stiles beside him and then stood up just as Peter poked his head out. 

He feels Stiles stiffen a little beside him, and notices Peter's curious look drop to something akin to irritation. 

"Really, nephew?" Peter huffs, stepping fully out of the kitchen. Derek raises an eyebrow, as if challenging Peter to tell him exactly what he thought about Stiles, but Stiles spoke before Peter could. 

"Good to see you again, Peter."

Derek looks over at him with a scowl, but Stiles looks extremely amused, hand squeezing Derek's before pulling away and walking further into the loft. 

"You two know each other?" Derek asked. Thankfully, Malia looked just as confused as she stood up from the sofa. 

"We had a run in back when Stiles was still in high school," Peter nodded. Derek moved to stand beside Stiles again. Peter met Stiles when he and Scott had been friends still, or just starting to drift. Stiles had told him he was just starting to learn magic around his junior year.

"Yeah, he's the one who bit Scott," Stiles said, sounding angry but looking more amused that they'd run into each other again. 

Derek turned his scowl back to Peter. "You bit Scott?" He asked incredulously. Peter just shrugged. From what Scott said, it was unconsensual. 

"It was after the fire," he supplied, sounding indifferent, even though the topic was still fresh and sore. Peter had gone a bit mad when he'd woken up at the hospital. 

Derek, Laura and Cora had run off, thinking they were the only survivors. They'd found out about Peter and helped heal him as their last remaining pack members. Aparently he bit Scott before they'd gotten to him. 

"We actually tried to kill him," Stiles hummed, pulling Derek back to the present. Malia walked over, suddenly interested in the story. 

"We?" Derek asked. 

"Yeah," Stiles laughed. "Scott and I got all our know-how about werewolves online. You know, silver bullet to the chest," he said with a flop of his hand. 

"We learned from an RPG chatsite that the cure to werewolfism was to kill the 'wolf that bit you."

"So Stiles here decided to corner me in a parking garage," Peter huffed. 

"And then he tried to bite me," Stiles added. 

"There was a molotov cocktail thrown in there, and silver cutlery," Peter hummed. 

"Wow, you guys were dumb," Malia said, causing Peter to huff in agreement. 

"I was sixteen," Stiles shrugged. "I've made up for it since then."

"Ah, yes, Cora told me you're a Spark now," Peter grinned, all teeth. "And a powerful one at that."

Stiles shrugs, but he's grinning, toying with his septum piercing a little. "I can take care of myself."

"Body modifications are new," Peter continued, pointing a waving finger over Stiles.

"Theres a lot more," Stiles hummed proudly, stuffing his tattooed hand back in his pocket. 

"I was under the impression you had a thing against tattoos and piercings, nephew," Peter said, eyeing Derek with an amused raised eyebrow. 

It wasnt a secret to his family that Derek didnt like tattoos or piercings. Which made it that much more ironic that his soulmate was covered in them. But he liked Stiles' tattoos and had told him so many times in the four months they'd been together. 

He traced the pine trees that covered his calf and ankle when they were on the couch together, Stiles' feet in his lap. 

He found himself tracing the bands that curled around his hips when they laid together. Sometimes he'd follow the bands and runes that twisted up his left arm, or trace the celtic knot on his right bicep like the maze on the back of a cereal box. 

He kissed the skull on the side of his neck, suckled on his pierced nipples. He licked at the snake bite piercings on his lip, traced over the horseshoe in his eyebrow. He was sort of obsessed with all of Stiles' body modifications, especially his dick. 

"I like his," Derek answered, shrugging a bit. Stiles looked at him with a grin. 

"Can I see them?" Malia asked, eyes lingering on the skull tattoo on Stiles' neck. Derek really shouldve sat Malia and Cora down to explain what manners were. He wondered if they asked everyone with tattoos to show them off. 

But Stiles just grinned and nodded, and shrugged out of his flannel. He handed it to Derek, who slung it over his shoulder and watched as even Peter stepped a little closer to see his now exposed arms. 

Instead of taking his shirt off to show the chest piece, he rolled the short sleeves of his shirt up over his shoulders, holding his arms out and rotating them so the two Hales could see the entirety of them. 

"Why so many?" Malia asked. She was seventeen, just a few years younger than Stiles, but she was still pretty new to the being human thing. It was a big part of why Peter took her traveling -though he would never admit it to anyone. 

"Some are decorative, but most have meaning," Stiles shrugged. "Helps with my magic."

"You'll have to show us a demonstration," Peter said, grinning at Stiles. Derek was glad they didnt have bad blood between them. 

"I'm pretty destructive," Stiles said with a shake of his head. "There isnt really much I can show you that wont break something."

Derek didnt say anything. He'd seen Stiles using his gifts. Had hickies that stayed on his skin for more than a second now. He'd seen Stiles seal his oils and potions shut. He teleported and on lazy days in bed would use his telekinesis to bring items to them so they didnt have to get out of bed. 

Stiles' affinity to nature was something Derek had only seen once, and it was probably the most incredible thing he'd ever seen. 

They'd been walking around town, hands locked and talking. They'd passed a hedge of little purple flowers. Stiles had run his free hand over the leaves before scoffing and pulling the two of them to a stop to inspect the plant more closer. 

Derek had watched as Stiles scowled at the seemingly healthy plant and spoke to it softly. "Poor thing, underwatered."

And then he proceeded to walk into the yard, grab the hose from the side of the cafe that owned the plant and promptly watered it until the plant had enough. 

Stiles explained he could feel it. Derek had kissed him only because he was too awestruck for anything else. 

"How about we skip show and tell and eat," Derek suggested, handing the flannel back to Stiles. 

"Ooh, yeah I'm starving," Malia grinned. Stiles slipped back into the flannel, hiding his arms before stepping into Derek's space. 

"I made spaghetti," Peter nodded, already heading into the kitchen. 

The rest of the visit was actually surprisingly pleasant. Stiles and Peter were both quick-witted and tossed jabs back and forth between bites. Stiles seemed to like Malia, even when she asked too personal questions. 

Stiles would answer some, or he'd be vague to the point of confusing, and when called out, he'd just grin and continue his meal. 

Derek was glad neither commented on the hickies clouding the skin of Stiles' neck and shoulder, hiding in the ink of the skull tattoo. The mating bite was on his shoulder, hidden by his clothes. 

Derek wanted to bite him again. He wanted the mating mark all over Stiles' pale body, but knew once was all he would get. 

He wanted to have sex with him again too. Without the heat. He wanted Stiles deep inside him again, wanted to smell their sex in the air and on their skin. 

After their food, Derek and Stiles settles into the couch, Derek leaning into his chest. Peter sits on the other side of the couch and Malia sat on the coffee table. Derek was again brought back to the thought about getting a bitter couch for the pack. 

He smiled a little. He didn't think of Scott or the three musketeers when he thought about pack. He thought about Peter, Malia, Cora and Stiles. With that train of thought, Derek settled against Stiles, and Stiles dropped his chin on Derek's shoulder, curling his arms around him. 

"Do you still have that property up in Oregon?" He asked Peter, interrupting some mundane talk about what Malia thought about the buildings in France compared to Italy. 

"In Hood River?" Peter asked, frowning a bit as he remembered. Peter had bought a bit of land just on the outskirts of Hood River, Oregon, right near Mt. Hood a couple years before the fire. It would be his pack land when he became alpha. 

Peter wasn't alpha anymore, but the land was his territory. Even without being there personally, other packs in the area would know and leave the space alone. 

"I'm sure I can find the deed to the land in the vault," Peter hummed noncommittally. "Why?"

Derek sheugged with the shoulder not weighed down by Stiles' head. "Thinking of a change in scenery."

Peter raised an eyebrow and Stiles tilted his head a little bit to nose under Derek's ear. Peters lips quirked. 

"And I'm assuming this has to do with the new growth on your back?" 

Stiles burst out in laughter, hot breath puffing against Derek's neck. "The growth is just along for the ride," Stiles grins. 

"What about your pack here?" Peter asked. Derek knew he didn't actually care, not since he lost his red eyes. Definitely not since Scott found his. 

"You guys are my pack," Derek grumbled. "Scott isn't alpha material and I'm sick and tired of babysitting."

"You're telling me," Stiles groaned, nuzzling against Derek. "You're lucky, you've only had to deal with them for four years."

Derek huffed. It was true. Stiles had been cleaning up the McCall pack's messes for a long time -probaby longer than Stiles had been a Spark. 

"Thats nice," Peter grunted with a roll of his eyes. "But there's a problem with that."

Derek looked at him in confusion. 

"We still need an alpha. Otherwise we'll be a pack of omegas."

The room was quiet. Derek knew they needed an alpha, but he hadn't thought about it. He just wanted to leave. He was fine with the pack in the room, plus Cora. 

But other packs would take one look at them and know they were weak and defenseless. They'd need an alpha if they moved. 

"I'll do it," Stiles said, chin still on Derek's shoulder. Peter gave him an incredulous look, lips thinning. 

"Youre not an alpha, kid."

"No," Stiles agreed. "But I'm stronger than one." Derek could hear the smugness in his voice, and knew he was smirking. "And I'm protective of what's mine. I'd keep you all safe."

Derek knew Peter wasn't a fan of the idea from the way his eyebrows dropped. But Derek didn't care, he was grinning at the thought. Peter didn't like the idea of being possessed -its why he was planning on becoming alpha. 

Stiles could tell too, because he huffed in an amused way, shaking his head. 

"Or we could find an alpha and you can be in charge," he said. Peter looked pleased at the idea and Derek grunted. 

"Where would we find an alpha?" Malia asked, finally adding to the conversation. 

"There's one in town," Peter said. 

"You can't steal Scott's power," Stiles sighed. "It's part of being a true alpha. The only one who can is his beta, and Liam took off the instant he finished high school."

"Really?" Malia asked. Derek remembered Liam. He showed up just as Liam was graduating. Didnt get a chance to get to know the kid, but Scott talked about him for about a year after. 

"Yeah," Stiles shrugged. "He wasn't very happy with Scott when he bit him, on top of that, Scott and I weren't exactly seeing eye to eye at the time, so Liam wasn't a fan of me."

"So, back to the alpha business," Peter said, steering the conversation back to a topic he wanted to discuss. "Who do you have in mind?"

Derek glanced over at Stiles to see him smirking. "You ever hear about an alpha pack?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so its about to get real funky! We got a fight with Deucalion, Ethan and Aiden planned, on top of an old friend returning AND Kate and Gerard makes an appearance! Yall are about to get a lot of action in these next couple chapters! 
> 
> Also if you guys are reading Fox and the Hound, I'm taking a break while I work the plot out. Its going in a different direction than I planned so I need a minute behind the scenes to work it out into a way I like! 
> 
> Also also, new story up! It's dark and Sterek. If you check it out please read the tags!


	20. Chapter 20

The following week, Stiles, Derek, Malia and Peter got things in order. Stiles had kept an eye on the alpha pack after Scott had let them go back in high school. 

They weren't really a pack anymore after the darach killed Kali and Deucalion killed Ennis. Now there were only three, Deucalion, and the alpha twins. 

Halfway through the week Cora came home, and there was a very loud reunion between the five of them. Cora was on board with the plan. 

Peter was in charge of getting their territory in Hood River ready, so he and Malia set out to get a construction team out there to start the housing. 

They'd agreed on three small two bedroom houses. One was for Derek and Stiles, the other for Peter, Cora and Malia. Derek had suggested a third one for future pack members, but they'd all agreed the pack would stay small. No need to crowd. 

Derek and Stiles were in charge of planning the altercation with the alpha pack. Cora helped where she could, shooting off ideas. 

Stiles, Cora and Malia would hold off the twins while Derek and Peter took on Deucalion. 

The plan wouldn't work if it was with anyone else, but Stiles promised he was strong enough to take on all three alphas if need be. According to Stiles, the werewolves were just there to look pretty. 

The alpha pack had territory just south of Beacon Hills. Everything was set to go. Peter and Malia were scheduled to come back in a couple days, after finalizing the plans with the building crew, and then they'd set out to turn Peter into an alpha. 

"What if it goes wrong?" Derek asked for the trillionth time since the idea came to them. They were undressing in Stiles' apartment bedroom. Cora was staying at the loft. 

"Nothing is gonna go wrong, Puppy," Stiles said, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and boxers and dropping them to his ankles. 

Derek sighed, crawling into bed. "But it could," he said. It was an old argument they've had for a week, but Derek couldn't help it. If anything happened to Stiles, to his family. Derek didn't know what he would do. 

Stiles climbed in after, straddling Derek's hips and placing his palms against Derek's chest. He leaned forward, chests pressing together and kissed Derek's mouth. 

"It could," Stiles agreed. "But I won't let it."

Derek knew Stiles could handle the three on his own. He heard the stories, he's seen Stiles in action. But he was Derek's mate, and the need to make sure he was safe was too strong for Derek to just ignore. 

Stiles kissed down his jaw, trying to distract him from his line of thought. Derek's fingers flexed against Stiles' sides, feeling him roll his hips. Derek let out a little whine, feeling the pierced underside of Stiles' dick glide against his own, hardening it with friction. 

Derek tilted his chin up, allowing Stiles more room. He felt the scrape of dull teeth against his throat and whimpered. They shifted around, Derek curling his legs around Stiles, who is on his hands and knees above him. 

"Are you comfortable getting a little kinky with me?" Stiles asked with a smirk, looking down at Derek. 

"How kinky?" Derek asked unsure. Stiles' smirk softens to a smile as he leans down and kisses him softly. 

"Don't worry, Puppy, I'm not going to break out the chains and wolfsbane laced cat of nine tails," he chuckles. 

Derek rolled his eyes, but he relaxes a little at his words. He's had what Stiles likes to call a very boring and vanilla sex life. 

"Blow jobs in a club bathroom is still vanilla," Stiles had said. And then proceeded to tell Derek, "I'm gonna ruin vanilla sex for you."

Derek guessed that time was going to start now. He must've looked more nervous than he was because Stiles kissed him again. 

"We'll do safe colors, okay?" He said. 

"Safe colors?"

"Yeah, like, green for go, red for stop and yellow to slow down," Stiles said. 

"Okay," Derek said, because he didn't know what else to say. He felt a little out of his depth, but at the same time, he was used to rough -just not in the bedroom. 

"We'll start off soft and work our way up," Stiles hummed. "You set the pace."

Derek nodded. He trusted Stiles. Stiles smiled softly and kissed him again before climbing off. Derek scowled, reaching for his thigh. "Don't," he nearly growled. 

Stiles laughed, dropping onto the bed. "I'm just grabbing something."

Derek let go, and Stiles crawled to the end of the bed, showing off his pale ass as he leaned down. Derek felt his dick twitch at the sight, but he didn't touch himself. 

He watched curiously as Stiles dug under the bed, most of his body still on the bed and then coming up with another shoebox. 

He flipped the lid open and Derek's eyes widened. He got up onto an elbow, leaning forward while Stiles dug through it. 

"Thats, uhm," Derek blinked. "A lot." Stiles looked over at him and grinned. Inside the box was sex toys, what looked like an actual cat of nine tails, rope, cloth. Some of the things in his box Derek couldn't think of how to use in the bedroom. 

"These are my personal toys," Stiles hummed. "We're not using them this time."

He pulls out purple rope and one of the pieces of dark cloth that Derek realizes is a blind fold. 

He puts the lid back on the box and shoves it out of the way. 

"You know thats not going to hold," Derek said, nodding to the purple rope Stiles picks up. Stiles just smirks and crawls back onto Derek, sitting heavily on his hard on. Derek groaned at the feeling, hands finding his hips. 

"Remember, if you need me to stop just use the color code," Stiles said, rolling his hips forward against him. Derek barely managed to nod. 

He let Stiles wrap the rope around his wrists, securing them together before taking the other end of the rope and tying it to the bottom of his headboard. 

Derek let his arms relax above his head, and Stiles pulled back with a grin. 

"Okay, tug on it, see how it feels," Stiles demanded. Derek did, gently pulling on his arms. He tugged a little harder, and scowled. Stiles' smirk widened when Derek put a bit of muscle into it and nothing happened. 

"What'd you do?" Derek asked, not freaking out, but definitely confused. 

"Magic," he said. Derek settled his arms back down with a huff. "You're not the first werewolf I've slept with, Puppy. Sometimes you gotta get creative."

When Stiles puts the blindfold on, Derek had to take a breath. Especially when Stiles trails fingers down his sides, placing kisses down his torso. 

"You okay?" Stiles asks, lips brushing against his belly button. Derek nodded, and then Stiles licked a long stripe down Derek's shaft, pulling a whine from the werewolf. 

Its a new sensation, not being able to see what Stiles is doing, and he doesn't know how he feels about it. 

He didn't realize how much trust was involved with just the blindfold, but Derek was easily willing to give it. Especially when he felt lubed fingers at his asshole, messaging the rim of muscle. 

Stiles doesn't touch Derek's clock with his hands, nore does he take him into his mouth. He just licks and kisses him where he is, laying on his stomach. 

And he doesn't push his fingers in far enough to do anything either. Derek whines and shifts where he lays. 

Stiles keeps him on the right side of turned on for a good ten minutes before Derek starts to tug on the ropes around his wrists, the whimpers of almost pleasure turning into growls. 

He digs heels into the bed, rolls his hips, looking for friction. Stiles chuckles a bit between his legs and Derek drops his head onto the pillow. 

"Stiles," he growls out, tugging on the ropes. Stiles is playing with him on purpose. 

"Yes, Puppy?" Stiles asks innocently. Derek just growls again, lifting his head up to look in his direction. He curls his upper lip in a snarl. 

"St-stop messing around," he snaps, though its weak. Stiles is keeping him just on the brink. He can't go anywhere, he's caught between arousal and orgasm, and his body is restless. 

Stiles plants lazy open mouthed kisses to his pelvis, nosing at his balls. Derek whines and growls at the same time, wanting more. 

He feels the bite of the rope against his wrists when he tries to pull again. At this point, Derek might as well do it himself if Stiles is just going to play with it. 

And then Stiles presses his fingers in all the way, and brushes against his prostate. Derek shudders, legs falling open. 

He uses two fingers, brushing against his prostate over and over, giving Derek exactly what he wanted. 

Stiles' other hand grips the base of his cock, angling it up before kissing the tip. Derek rolls his hips, wanting more. 

Stiles gave it to him. Everything seemed heightened with the blindfold. He couldn't see what Stiles was doing, but he could feel him taking Derek into his mouth, could feel Stiles' fingers shifting from two to three, and he whined and bucked his hips and tugged at his hands. 

And when he was seconds away from orgasm, Stiles stopped. His hands and mouth were gone and Derek's orgasm faded. 

"Stiles," he whined. It was nearly a sob. A second later, Stiles was back inside him, and he was back in Stiles' mouth. 

When he was close again, Stiles backed off, and this time a growl felt Derek's curled lips, hands fisting as he tugged at the rope. 

"You're such a good Puppy," Stiles hummed, hands brushing against Derek's sides. Derek wanted to snap at him, beg him to just let Derek cum. 

He was brought to the brink two more times, and Derek was a mess. He whined and growled and wriggled under Stiles. 

"Please," he whined, because he's gotten to the point where he's begging Stiles to just let him cum. 

"Not yet," Stiles says instead, and again, he pulls away from Derek, and Derek thinks if he wasn't tied up he'd grab Stiles and pin him to the bed and fuck until he came. It was no longer a want to cum, it was a need. 

"Stiles," he whined, the high pitch harmonizing with the growl and his human voice. Stiles loved it, he could smell it in the way his arousal spiked when Derek's voice took on a more animalistic quality. 

Stiles lifted his legs up, folded Derek in half, and sunk into him. He groaned, his dick laying heavily on his stomach. He felt every piercing slip past his rim, and he was so sensitive, needed to cum. 

"I want to see you," Derek whined when Stiles stilled hilt deep. Stiles shifted, leaning over him and hooked a finger through the blind fold. 

The room was darker than Derek thought it would be, but he could easily see Stiles from the street lamp just outside the bedroom window. 

Stiles kissed him, staying put until Derek rolled his hips, demanding he move. Stiles smiled into the kiss before rocking into him. 

Derek thought for one glorious second that Stiles would let him cum, but he didn't. 

Stiles grabbed Derek just under the head, pinching just enough as he continued to thrust into him. 

Derek's eyes flashed blue, teeth sharpening. He snapped his teeth at Stiles, growling and practically writhing on the bed. 

"Just a little longer, Puppy," Stiles promised, voice strained as he continued pounding into Derek's prostate, keeping a firm grip on his cock. 

"No, need to-" his voice cut off with a whimper and he felt tears of frustration in the corners of his eyes. 

And then Stiles let him go, put both hands on either side of the bed, forcing Derek's legs closer to his chest, and rabbit fucked into Derek. 

His mouth fell open, eyes rolling shut, and then he came with a shout, cut off with each quick thrust. 

Stiles groaned through his own orgasm, hips stuttering. Derek whined, wriggling under Stiles as he continued to thrust into Derek's overly sensitive body. 

He was breathing fast, his limbs tingling and eyesight blurry as Stiles stilled, then pulled out slowly. Derek had cum pooling on his stomach. 

Stiles fell onto his back with a loud huff, legs tangling with Derek's when he unfolded himself. Derek lifted his head, seeing the rise and fall of Stiles' chest, tattooed arms spread out on either side of him. 

Stiles lifted his head too, grinning as he tried to catch his breath. "How was that?"

Derek dropped his head with a growl, tugging at the rope. "That was mean," he said, but there was no venom in his tone. 

Stiles laughed breathlessly, grunting as he pulled himself up. "Untie me," Derek said, tugging on the rope again. 

Stiles leaned forward, holding himself up as he used both hands to untie Derek's wrists. The instant they were free, Derek yanked them down and touched Stiles. 

He ran his fingers across Stiles' neck, down his shoulders across his back and over his chest. Derek was too fucking tactile to not be able to touch Stiles. 

Lips found lips and Derek whined into Stiles' mouth, hands still touching frantically. Stiles pulled back, trailing kisses down Derek's chest, down to his stomach, where the cum sat near his belly button. 

Stiles ran a tongue through the mess, grinning when Derek had to drop his head back. When Derek's stomach is covered in spit, Stiles slides up so he can rest his folded arms on Derek's chest, pressing a kiss to his chin and grinning. 

"Shower or sleep?" Stiles asks, just as Derek yawns. The two chuckle a bit, and Derek wraps his arms around Stiles, rolling so they're on their sides and rumbling in his chest. 

"Sleep," Derek answers. Stiles laughs, the sound muffled against Derek's chest. He's nearly rolled on top of him. Stiles wiggles until his head is on the pillow and presses a soft kiss to Derek's mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So halfway through writing this I decided to do that BDSM test for Derek and Stiles! I made sure I did each test with how I think they would have answered them, and the results are pretty accurate in terms of how I think the characters are in the bedroom!! Check it out and let me know what you think!
> 
> Stiles Stilinski  
> 100% Rigger   
> 94% Dominant   
> 94% Non-monogamist   
> 93% Experimentalist   
> 83% Voyeur   
> 73% Exhibitionist   
> 68% Sadist   
> 59% Switch   
> 25% Vanilla   
> 0% Degrader 
> 
> Derek Hale  
> 94% Vanilla   
> 73% Voyeur   
> 65% Rope bunny   
> 65% Masochist   
> 60% Submissive   
> 60% Exhibitionist   
> 59% Switch   
> 50% Experimentalist   
> 1% Primal


	21. Chapter 21

Derek scents everyone the day they're going to drive out to fight the last of the alpha pack. He curls a hand around Peter's neck, Peter does the same. He bear hugs Malia, scraping his beard across her cheek. 

He keeps Cora under his arm for a good ten minutes before she shoves him off. He drapes himself over Stiles. He smells like all of them, and they smell like him, and Derek really wants them to change their minds, but they don't and Derek finds himself in the passenger seat of Stiles' jeep. 

Peter, Malia and Cora are all in the Camero, driving behind. Derek chews at his lip. The drive is shorter than Derek would like. Its three hours, but Derek doesn't feel like it's been that long when Stiles pulls the jeep up to a town house. 

"They can't sense us," Stiles said when the five of them met between the cars. Stiles' eyes were white. He was used to it, as well as Cora, but Peter and Malia smelled a little hesitant. 

Derek inhaled, taking in the strong scent of ozone and petrichor that was Stiles, and the subtler scents of his family. It cslmed him down enough to be able to focus on what was being said. 

"So, remind me again why Scott let them go?" Peter asked. 

"Scott had just turned into a true alpha," Stiles said. "And after Ennis and Kali died, Deucalion had a sudden change of heart and Scott felt bad and let them go on the condition that none of them came back or hurt anyone."

Derek wonders if Stiles rolls his eyes at that, but they're still blank and white, and it perturbs him not being able to see the honey whiskey brown of his irises for so long. 

"Even back then I didn't trust anyone as far as I could throw them, so I made sure to know where they are at all times," Stiles continues. 

"Why didn't you just come here and kill them when you figured out your Spark?" Cora asked. 

Stiles just shrugged. "Had bigger problems. Now, are we ready?"

Derek's chest tightens. They nod, and just before Stiles removes whatever clocking let's them stand and talk outside of the building housing three alpha werewolves, Derek grabs him and pulls him in for a kiss. 

Stiles kisses him back, and when they part, his eyes are back to normal, and he's grinning. 

Derek can hear when the alphas sense them, and his hand tightens around Stiles' wrist. 

Derek doesn't actually know how they all get into the town house, only that he's keeping an eye on Stiles, and then people are yelling at him. Stiles is yelling at him. 

He blinks, and its like sound comes back suddenly. They're fighting. Derek looks to Stiles, who is holding the twins with Cora and Malia, and then to Peter, fighting who could only be Deucalion. 

Derek rushes for Peter, claws and fangs extended, a growl in his throat. Stiles had said Deucalion was blind, but he didn't act like it while they fought. 

He took both Peter and Derek on, and gave them a run for their money. Derek had slash marks across his chest that refused to heal, and Peter was bleeding heavily from his back, but they kept fighting. 

Malia joined the fight, jumping onto Deucalion's back and digging claws into the side of his neck. She let out an animalistic scream, legs curled around him. 

Deucalion howled and grabbed her by the back of the shirt, flipping her off and throwing her at Derek. 

Derek barely managed to catch her before the two of them fell to the floor. He looked over to see how Stiles was doing, and had one of the twins pressed into the wall, eyes white and jaw set. He looked murderous. 

Peter let out a yelp and all eyes turned to him. Deucalion had a fist embedded deep in Peter's stomach. Derek threw Malia off and charged, ripping into Deucalion. 

Malia was right beside him, and they grabbed Deucalion by the arms and yanked them back. Peter crumbled to the floor, gasping in pain, and then Cora was running to him and hauling him to his feet. 

Derek didn't have time to check on Stiles when Deucalion turned on Malia and himself. Derek dug claws into skin, ripped and bit at whatever he could, and then Peter stumbled forward, pulled a clawed hand back and sliced through the muscles of his throat. 

Malia and Derek dropped Deucalion, and Peter fell on top of him, digging fingers into the open slices of his throat so he couldn't heal, and dug his own fist into Deucalion's gut. 

A shout got Derek's attention and his breath hitched in his throat at Stiles dropping to his knees. Blood was soaking through his white t-shirt. 

One of the twins was laying motionless on the ground in front of him, the other was gone. Derek stumbled to his feet, skidding up to Stiles on his knees and collecting him up in trembling hands. 

"Stiles, Stiles!" 

Stiles winced, eyes no longer white. Derek ignored the pain in his own chest to look at Stiles'.

"I'm alright," Stiles gasped out. Derek pulled back the shredded shirt to see the damage, and relief flooded through him. The four lines running through the triple moon goddess tattoo were shallow. He couldn't see bone. 

Derek pulled Stiles closer, tears springing to his eyes as he buried his face in Stiles' neck. 

"I'm okay," Stiles soothed. He was still bleeding. Derek placed a hand over his chest, Stiles winced, but didn't push him away. 

"Do you need stitches?" Derek asked worridly. Stiles shook his head. 

Derek was about to ask what he did need when the sound of Deucalion's wet gurgled breathing stopped. The scuffing of feet against the hardwood stilling. 

He looked over, could see the moment Deucalion's power transfered and wanted to cry harder. In seconds, Peter's wounds were healed, and he stood up, eyes red and lips quirked. 

Derek turned back to Stiles. "Can you stand?" Stiles nodded and the two of them helped each other up. 

Cora rushed to them, curling an arm around both of their waists, burying her face in their joined shoulders. 

"Careful," Derek winced. 

"We gotta go," Stiles said. The group nodded and left the town house. 

"What should we do with the bodies?" Malia asked when they were in the grass. There was no sign of the other twin. 

"Leave them," Stiles said, making his way to the jeep with Derek still glued to him. "Cops will be here soon, we gotta go."

The drive back was painful for both Stiles and Derek. Derek's wounds were deeper than Stiles', but the bleedinf had stopped. 

Although Stiles' was shallow, it still bled, and Derek worried he might bleed out. He was already looking paler than normal. 

"Maybe we should stop and take care of your chest," Derek said. Stiles glanced over at him and gave a small smile. 

"I'm alright, Puppy," he said, taking Derek's hand in his. Stiles' hand was clammy. Derek pulls at some of the ache and sting, careful not to pull too much while Stiles is driving. 

Its a wonder they make it back to Beacon Hills without one of them passing out, but they do. 

Derek stumbles out of the jeep, whining a little at the ache in his chest as his body tries to heal an alpha wound. It would take a while for it to heal. 

Stiles is a lot more graceful getting out, and the two of them meet Malia, Cora and Peter at the door to Derek's building. 

Peter moves forward, grabbing Derek by the back of the neck and bringing him into his chest. Derek whines, closing his eyes as he presses his forehead on Peter's shoulders. 

He can feel the power of alpha radiating off him in waves, and it calms him. 

"Inside," Cora urges. She has Stiles by the waist, leading him inside. Malia holds the door open for them. Peter keeps ahold of Derek and follows in after. 

"On the couch," Cora orders, dropping Stiles down. He's already pulling his shirt off with a shaky breath. Peter rips Derek's off. 

"I'm fine," Stiles and Derek says at the same time, earning scowls from the other werewolves. 

Stiles is cleaned up and wrapped with gauze Derek had on hand for no reason. He had no need for them, but they'd somehow ended up under his bathroom sink. 

Derek was also cleaned up, though the gauze was excluded from his care. 

"That ended a lot better than I thought it would," Peter hummed, smirking a bit as he fell onto the end of the couch. 

"That assole ruined my tattoo," Stiles pouted. Cora rolled her eyes but dropped down on the other side of him. 

Derek reached for Stiles, pulling him into his side just as Malia squeezed her way between the arm rest and Cora. Derek managed to press his back into Peter's side, and thought for the third time that he needed a bigger couch. 

*-*

Derek woke up to pounding on the door. The rest of the pack jolted up as well, and Derek growled when he smelled Scott and the gang. 

He knew Scott had sensed the new alpha in his territory. The rest of the pack stayed nested on the couch as Derek extracted himself from the pile. 

He swung the door open, a scowl transfixed on his face as he took in the four werewolves. 

"What?" He snapped, standing firm in the doorway. 

Scott's eyes moved from Derek to behind him, at his pack and his eyes flashed red. 

"What the fuck, Derek!" Scott snapped. Derek glanced back to see his pack had all stood up, with Stiles in the front, void of a shirt with a frown of his own. 

"You need to leave," Derek said, turning back to Scott. 

"I would listen to my nephew," Peter hummed, the thrum of alpha strengthening. Derek let it wash over him, knowing Peter was his alpha, that they were an actual pack now. 

He was caught off guard when Scott shoved Derek away, charging in and pulling to a stop when Cora growled in warning. Derek's chest was mostly healed, but the jostle hurt more than he was willing to admit. 

"You're a fucking alpha again?" Scott snapped, heated gaze on Peter, who remained unaffected. Peter's pack was bigger and meaner than Scott's. They had just beaten the alpha pack, they could take care of Scott's.

"Back off, Scott," Stiles said, side stepping so he stood in front of Peter. His chest was still bandaged, and Derek could see a bit of blood soaking through. 

"You can't be serious!" Erica nearly shouted. The Three Bears stormed in to flank their alpha. Derek still stood by the door. "Do you guys have any idea who these two are?" Her arms failed to encompass Peter and Stiles, and Derek growled lowly in warning. 

"Leave," Derek growled out, putting as much authority into his voice as he could. 

"No," Scott growled back, snapping his head back to look at Derek, eyes flashing red. "This is too far, Derek. First Stiles, now Peter? And who's this bitch?"

That got blood boiling. And claws flying. Malia charged, Issac stepped forward to intercept her. Derek ran towards Scott when he realized Scott was gearing up to fight Peter and shoved him into the wood pillar beside him. 

"Enough!" Stiles shouted, the air in the room thrumming with enough magic to make the hairs on Derek's arms stand on end. Derek kept Scott pinned to the pillar, a snarl on his lips, but he turned to look at Stiles. 

"Don't fucking touch my wolves," he nearly growled, eyes slowly bleeding white. Derek's eyes widened a bit at the way his skin paled, dark rings surfacing under his eyes. The room felt oppressive, like Stiles was slowly sucking the air out. 

"Stiles-" Erica is cut off when Stiles raises a hand, palm out. Erica's eyes widen. 

"These are my wolves," Stiles continued, voice going cold and two-toned. Derek's heart skipped a beat. He was dipping into the darkness around his heart, and whatever it was made him more powerful. 

Derek wondered if Stiles used that darkness when he took care of the messes Scott left behind. 

Stiles' white eyes turned to Scott, locking him down. Derek could see and hear the air around Stiles sparking with electricity. 

"Don't make me hurt you, Scott."

Derek let him go, stepping back from him to move closer to his pack. "Its time for you to leave," Peter growled, flanking Stiles, unafraid. 

"You-"

Scott didn't get a chance to finish because Stiles had lifted his arms and shoved. Derek let out a breath, feeling the air shift in the room. The other pack slammed into the wall. 

Derek looked at Stiles, reaching for him and twisting their fingers together. And just as quickly as his skin paled and eyes bruised, he was back to normal, the taut muscles relaxing, body sagging a little, the pink returning to his cheeks. 

He blinked his eyes back to normal, looking over at Derek, sharp edges smoothing out. 

After a second, Derek turned back to Scott, who was recovering from the shove. 

"You need to go, Scott," he said. "I'm no longer apart of your pack." He didn't bother telling him they were planning on moving into their own territory by the end of the month. It wasn't Scott's business. 

He was a little surprised when Scott actually did leave, with Huey, Dewy and Loui all trailing behind him. 

They all waited until they couldn't hear the other pack, and then relaxed. Stiles squeezed Derek's hand, looking at him with a tired smirk. 

"I can't wait to leave," Cora grunted. Derek looked over at her and smiled. The rest of the pack agreed in a range of exhaustion and exasperation. Derek curled an arm around Stiles' waist, nuzzling into him in contentment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the angst!! I'm so excited to see Derek finally get his pack, and for Stiles! They're both getting what they deserve!!


	22. Chapter 22

The next couple days were easy. Derek healed, with the help of his pack, and Stiles had somehow moved in full time. Derek didn't even realize it until he woke up one morning and kicked a shoe box. 

He cursed when he nearly stumbled over it, and then took in the stack of shoe boxes lining the wall beside his dresser. 

And Stiles' clothes had mixed in with the laundry, and beside Derek's tooth brush sat Stiles', Malia's, Peter's and Cora's. It made Derek's chest swell almost painfully. 

The only downside to the five of them living together was that there was no privacy. Malia and Cora shared a bed upstairs, Peter slept on the couch, and Stiles and Derek slept a couple feet away on his bed in the corner of the loft. 

With Stiles being the only one with human hearing, it was difficult to do anything without the others hearing. Which meant underwear stayed on when they went to bed. 

But Derek owned the whole building. There were plenty of hiding spots away from werewolf hearing. Which was why Derek was currently bent over a dusty metal table with his pants pulled down to just under his ass on the lowest floor, in a room farthest from the loft. 

His arms were tied behind his back, the rope twisting from wrist to elbow. Stiles' tattooed fingers were hooked into the rope, holding Derek in place as he rammed into him. Derek pressed his cheek into the cold metal, a plume of dust puffing out with every quick exhale. 

Derek had his shirt off when Stiles started tying him up, but the two were going on a little over a week with no sex. Stiles had barely managed to get his fly undone before Derek demanded he just fuck him already. 

So there they were, Derek with his pants down, and Stiles with his fly undone. Every thrust in had the rough fabric of Stiles' jeans and his zipper scratching at Derek's ass. 

Derek whined, feeling Stiles' thumb message the skin just above his hole. He was panting and moaning behind Derek, tugging on the ropes keeping Derek's arms hostage. 

Stiles came first, a shout echoing in the dusty empty room. He stilled in Derek, hips stuttering before he leaned forward, plastering himself on Derek. 

"Untie me," Derek demanded, wiggling a bit. "Untie me, untie me."

Stiles laughed but did as he was told. He pulled out and quickly released the knot that held the ropes together. Derek yanked his arms free and spun around, yanking Stiles to him and kissing him roughly, already feeling cum spilling from him. 

Stiles pushed at Derek, forcing him back into the table, and then pushed further. Derek got the hint, breaking their kiss and jumping onto the dusty top. They'd definitely need a shower. 

Stiles pushed his chest until Derek was on his back, legs hanging off the edge of the table. He moaned when Stiles took him into his mouth, the loud sucking and slurping echoing in the room. 

Derek came with a strained whine, fingers gripping the edge of the table. Stiles easily swallowed him, keeping Derek in his mouth until Derek pushed at his shoulder, over sensitive. 

He sat up, grabbed Stiles by the face and smashed their mouths together. 

Derek let his hands collect Stiles closer, careful of the still healing cuts on his chest. Stiles had been right about not needing stitches, but any friction would tear the scabs open and Derek had a really hard time with it. 

"I can't wait til we move into our own place," Stiles hummed, smirking up at Derek, who managed to curl his legs around Stiles' hips. 

"Don't get me wrong, I love the pack," Stiles continued, running his tattooed fingers through Derek's hair. "But I wanna fuck you in our bed, and be as loud as we want without worrying about one of them wanting to watch TV three feet away."

"Our bed?" Derek asked, grinning widely. 

"Hmm," Stiles hummed. "In our bedroom, in our house. With our own fridge and a shared closet and all that mushy monogamous white picket fence shit."

Derek laughs, nuzzling into Stiles' neck. The image of Stiles in an American Dream home didn't fit. 

"I don't like fences," Derek said, pulling away to look at Stiles with a grin. "But the rest of the 'monogamous shit' sounds good to me."

"Good," Stiles said, face growing serious. "Because I'm only willing to settle down for you."

Derek grinned, kissing Stiles mouth again. Stiles curled his arms around him. 

"But," Stiles said, pulling away. "I read somewhere that relationships have compromise and shit like that, so if I'm going to settle down, you gotta compromise with me."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," Stiles grinned. "Lots of sex. I'm talking at least seven times a week, on all the furniture. Maybe up against windows or even outside. And I want you to knot me again, because once is definitely not enough."

Derek can't help but grin through the rant, but Stiles keeps going. 

"And we're not going to turn into some super overly domestic couple that wears sweaters over our shoulders and welcomes new neighbors with fruitcake. I refuse to wear khaki. And no pets. I'm not responsible enough for a pet, and you're the type to just take care of it all by yourself and that's not-"

Derek shuts him up with his lips, laughing into Stiles' mouth. 

"I think I can do that," Derek said, making Stiles smile. "And if anyone is going to get a pet, its Peter. He's always wanted a cat."

Stiles made a face. "Really? A cat?"

*-*

The two cleaned up as best they could, but Derek knew the smell would alert the pack to exactly what they'd gotten up to. 

Thankfully, none of them said anything. The two showered, Stiles taking care to wash Derek from head to toe, before washing himself, and then they settled on the couch, smooshed between Malia and Cora. Peter was in the kitchen making food. 

"Oh, I just remembered," Cora grunted. "Someone's been calling you while you two were busy fucking each other."

Derek nearly choked on the breath he inhaled, shooting a glare at her. She just shrugged. 

"It stopped ringing about ten minutes ago."

Stiles pushed himself up, walking the short distance to the bed and picking up his phone. 

Derek watched with a curious scowl as Stiles frowned down at his phone, then held it to his ear. Derek could hear the ringing over the sound of the TV. 

"Stiles!" Someone answered. That got Stiles moving. 

"Lydia, whats wrong?" Stiles demanded, walking across the loft towards the door. He gives Derek a finger and points it to his phone. 

"Stiles, I've been trying to call you-" the sound of the industrial door sliding open makes it difficult for Derek to listen, and then its closing and Stiles is rushing down the stairs and heading outside, the voice on the other end of the phone too quiet for him to listen in on. 

"Who's Lydia?" Malia asked, frowning after Stiles. 

"She's a friend from school," Peter said, coming out of the kitchen with four bowls of mac n cheese with peas and bacon bits inside. He passes them out, dropping Stiles' on the coffee table. 

"I met her during my run in with Scott and Stiles. Pretty thing. Wicked smart."

Peter returns a little later with his own bowl, sitting down beside Cora. Derek wonders if he should go out and see whats wrong, but just as he decides to actually do it, he hears Stiles climbing the stairs. 

"Everything okay?" Derek asked, grabbing his side as Stiles plopped down on the couch between him and Malia. 

"Not sure," Stiles scowled, grabbing the bowl left for him. "That was an old friend. She's just worried about me."

"Care to elaborate, little Spark?" Peter asked with a raised eyebrow. Stiles shot him a look, but shoveled a mouthful of food into his mouth and flopped his hand back and forth. 

"She's a banshee, can tell when someone's about to die. She said she kept hearing electricity and bones breaking."

"And she thought of you?" Peter asked, sounding as perturbed as Derek felt. 

"She's sweet, isn't she?" Stiles asked, deflecting. Derek scowled at him. He shouldn't be taking the prediction of a banshee lightly. Stiles rolled his eyes. 

"She's heading over," he said. "She hears things, but its hard for her to tell who exactly it is, but since I'm the only person she really talks to, she's playing it safe. Should be here in a couple days."

And like that, Stiles brushes it off and turns his attention to the TV. Derek forces himself to drop it too, and instead nuzzles into Stiles' neck. 

When they're in bed that night, Derek crawls onto Stiles, looking at his chest, seeing the wounds cutting through his tattoo. They'd scar, but they'd fade. It wouldn't be very visible. 

"You okay?" Derek asked softly, nuzzling Stiles. Stiles clings to him just as tightly as Derek does, the two of them curled under the covers. 

"Yeah," Stiles says. "I haven't seen Lydia in three years."

Both of them knows Peter can hear them. Derek knows he's awake. Even speaking in low tones, it wouldn't be hard for Peter to pick up their words and listen in. It's what he's probably doing right now. 

"She stuck around for a year after high school, but she couldn't take it, she left," Stiles said. "I don't blame her. I would've left too, but-"

"But you felt responsible for Scott?" Derek asked when Stiles didn't finish his sentence. He nodded in the dark. 

"Was she like Scott?" Derek asked. Stiles quickly shook his head, pressing a kiss to the underside of Derek's jaw. 

"No, she was the only one on my side," Stiles said. The two fell into silence. Derek held him a little tighter. 

"Its been three years," Stiles said softy. "We didn't exactly part on good terms. Barely texted or called."

"Maybe it'll be good to see each other then," Derek said, closing his eyes. Stiles nodded, not saying anything more and nuzzling against Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I just posted yesterday but I wanted to post again because its going to be a while before I post again. I usually have a couple chapters written ahead of time but I only have half of one so I'm going to push out a couple chapters before I post again just so I have that extra wiggle room!


	23. Chapter 23

When Lydia does show up two days later, Stiles slams into her with his whole body, wrapping his arms around her and bracing her so they didn't fall. 

She's small, Derek notices. She barely reaches Stiles' shoulders, and she's in high heels. She's hugging him back at the front door. 

The pack stands behind Stiles, watching patiently. "Hey, sweetheart," Lydia finally greets, her voice muffled against Stiles' chest. 

Stiles pulls back and grins so wide Derek thinks his cheeks might split. He grabs her hand and pulls her further into the loft. 

"This is my pack," Stiles introduces, nearly bouncing on his heels, and Derek's never seen him like this. It warms his chest to see Stiles so giddy, so proud and excited. 

Lydia smiles at Stiles like she agrees with Derek, then looks at them. 

"I'm Derek," Derek says first, because none of the others are going to introduce themselves first, and Stiles is too excited. 

"The mate?" Lydia asked knowingly. Stiles' grin widens as Derek nods. She turns to Stiles. "Didn't think you'd ever go steady."

Stiles just shrugs, twisting at his septum piercing. "Me neither."

"I'm Malia," Malia introduced next. "This is Cora and Peter."

"Its nice to meet you all," Lydia smiled softly. She wasn't like Derek had expected. She was all soft curves and curly red hair tied up in a halo of braids. She wore brown high heel boots, a grey blouse tucked into a maroon skirt that synched at her waist and stopped mid-thigh. 

Her face was done nicely with make up. She looked well put together -not like the depictions of banshees Derek read about in books. 

"We've got a lot to talk about," Lydia said, turning to look at Stiles with a serious expression. Stiles nodded. 

He lead Lydia into the kitchen. Derek followed, grabbing at Stiles' hand as he leaned against the counter. Stiles smiled at him, interlocking their fingers. 

Lydia looked at them with a fond smile, eyes bright. "Its going to take me a while to get used to that," she said, pulling their attention to her. 

Derek tilted his head in a silent question, but Stiles just looked sheepish, eyes dropping to the ground. 

"Stiles had someone new in his bed every week throughout high school," Lydia explained, earning an indignant noise from Stiles. She just rolled her eyes at him. 

"I've never seen you like this," she said to Stiles. "It looks good on you."

"Fuck off," Stiles grunted, but there was no bite to it. "You make me sound like a man whore."

"You make yourself sound like a man whore," Derek interjected. He could hear the pack in the living room huff a laugh -listening in. Stiles elbowed him. 

"Excuse you," he griped. "I don't appreciate this at all."

Derek pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

"Don't butter me up," Stiles said before turning to Lydia. "What's this about you thinking I'm going to die?"

Lydia sighed. Derek could see her shoulders slumping at the mention of it, and he saw the weariness in her features. He wondered how often she had predictions -if they wore her down over the years. 

"It started a couple days ago," Lydia said. "It sounded like electricity, when the power surges before the fuse blows. And the sound of bones breaking."

"Are you sure?"

"I've been around you and Scott long enough to know what a broken bone sounds like," Lydia snaps, rolling her eyes. 

"That doesn't mean I'm the one going to die," Stiles said. 

"You're the only one I know who can shoot lightning out of his fingers," Lydia countered. "You're a Spark, Stiles. You're pretty rare. Those who know about people like you either want you dead or want to control you, and let's be honest there's no controlling you."

Derek snorted in agreement, and Stiles didn't deny it. Lydia continued. "There's nothing you've done recently to out yourself?"

"No," Stiles huffed indignantly, crossing his arms. "The only people who know are Scott's pack and mine. Anyone else doesn't live long enough to tell anyone."

"You don't think one of Scott's let it slip?"

"Its been eight years since they found out I was a Spark. If they were going to tell anyone, they would've when I killed Donovan."

"The twin," Derek said, eyes widening slightly. Stiles looked at him before cursing. "One of them got away."

"Who would he tell?" Stiles demanded. 

"Keep me in the loop, please," Lydia grunted. 

"A couple days ago we took care of the alpha pack-"

"You mean the one that came through when the darach was here?" Lydia interrupted. Stiles just nodded. 

"We needed an alpha for the pack, so we tracked them down for Peter," Stiles said quickly. "I was able to take down one of the twins but the other one cut me and took off."

"If he told anyone, they're going to be coming after you," Lydia said. Stiles huffed, rubbing his face with a tattooed hand. 

"Great," he grunted just as Cora made an appearance. The three of them looked over at her. 

"What's up?" Derek asked, just as Lydia smiled with a "hello, sweetheart."

Derek and Cora looked at her, Cora with thin lips and a raised eyebrow. 

"Don't call me sweetheart," Cora said, scowling a bit. 

"No fucking way," Stiles breathed out, a grin slowly lifting his features. He excitedly looked from Cora to Lydia, who currently looked a little shocked. 

"What?" Derek asked. 

"Soulmates!" Stiles laughed, head falling back and hand on his stomach. Cora blinked, her scowl surprised away as she looked at Lydia. 

Derek grinned too, and suddenly Peter and Malia were rushing into the cramped kitchen with them, and Stiles was grabbing Lydia's arm, yanking her shirt sleeve up to her elbow. 

Lydia let him, and there in dark ink, was the words 'don't call me sweetheart'. Cora still looked at Lydia in shock, Lydia looked a little shocked as well, but everyone else was grinning. 

"Well?" Malia demanded. "Say something to each other!"

Peter chuckled, but elbowed her a little to cool it. Derek noticed a blush rising on Cora's cheeks as she finally namaged to pull her eyes off of Lydia's arm. 

"Hi," Lydia said softly, like Cora would bolt if she said it any louder. And Derek was suddenly glad he and Stiles met the way they did. Alone, without eyes watching them, holding their breaths. 

Cora looked up just enough to look Lydia in the eyes. "Hey."

"Thats it?" Malia asked. 

"Time to give them space," Derek said. He grabbed Stiles by the arm, tugging him away and herding Peter and Malia towards the front door, ignoring everyone's protests. 

Once they were out of the loft, Derek slipped his hand into Stiles'.

"Let's get something to eat," Derek suggested, the four of them walking down the stairs towards the exit. 

"I don't have anything on me, nephew," Peter grinned. 

"Yeah you kind of dragged us out without giving us time to grab anything, Puppy."

"I got it," Derek said. He usually kept his wallet on him at all times. 

They decided to walk -well, everyone left their keys inside so they had to- to a small bar a couple blocks away. They served the regular bar food, and it gave Cora and Lydia time alone to talk and get to know each other a little. 

"You know," Stiles said over the dull chatter after the waitress left with their orders. "I can totally see them being really good together."

At the questioning looks he gets from the werewolves, he shrugs. "Lydia doesn't look it, but she's no pushover. She's smarter than I am -which is saying something-" Derek rolled his eyes and Peter huffed at that. Stiles just continued. 

"And she can make your head cave in with just her voice," he said. "But she's super sweet and loyal, like Cora."

Derek can't help but smile at Stiles, because Stiles gets it. He gets who Cora is, and who Peter is, possibly even Malia. Definitely Derek. 

They don't have to try, Stiles just somehow knows exactly who the Hales are, and it may be his magic or it could just be who he was as a person, but it was such a relief to have someone know. 

Derek hoped Stiles felt the same way about him. Hoped that the little things Derek did for Stiles let the Spark know just how much Derek loved him. 

He blinked, looked at Peter and Malia to see if maybe they noticed his revelation. If somehow Peter could tell exactly when Derek realized. But the two of them were talking with Stiles and eating their food. 

Derek shouldn't be surprised. They were soulmates. It was kind of in the cards for them to fall in love. But it had only been four months, and Derek has never been in love before. 

It made his chest swell just at the thought of it. Derek wasn't very monogamous -for a werewolf- and had dated a few people -the longest being about six months- but he never felt love for them. He'd just assumed it wasn't long enough. 

But here he was, four months into a forever relationship with Stiles, and realizing he was in love and wanting to tell him. 

He kept his mouth shut though, worried Stiles might not be ready to hear it. 

It wasn't a secret that Stiles didn't do relationships. Didnt do monogamy. That Derek was the longest Stiles had ever stuck with. Derek wasn't blind to the fact that Derek was probably the only person Stiles has had sex with more than once. 

If feelings like love freaked Derek out a little, they most definitely would freak Stiles out. But it was enough to just know that Derek loved Stiles. He didn't need to hear it from the tattooed Spark. 

Derek could wait until Stiles found the courage to say it aloud. The pack stayed in the bar for hours, giving Cora and Lydia privacy to talk. 

At some point Stiles got Derek out in front of the stage playing a cover of Fleetwood Mac's Gypsy. Derek had protested the whole way from the table, but fell into Stiles' arms anyway. 

"Who doesn't know how to dance?" Stiles had asked with a grin. "Haven't you ever been to a school dance?"

"Middle school," Derek had said, allowing Stiles to grab his fingers and tug him closer, a hand moving to his side. 

Stiles had laughed and swayed the two of them to the beat, moving from left foot to right, not spinning around at all. It was easy for Derek to follow along with. 

"I never pegged you as a dancer," Derek mentioned, his free hand curled around the back of Stiles' neck, thumb brushing against the skull tattoo. 

"I'm not," Stiles grinned, the fingers at Derek's hips tapping out the rhythm of the song. "I've only danced like this twice."

"Two times more than I have," Derek said, easily allowing Stiles to shift their tempo to the Stevie Nicks cover that started playing. "When did you dance before?"

"Last time was my sophomore prom," Stiles said. "A little before the shitshow with the darach. I danced with Lydia."

Derek smiled along with Stiles. Both smiles didn't reach their eyes. Derek knew enough about Stiles to know his time in high school was littered with bad memories. 

Scott being turned beginning of their sophomore year, his dad dying at the end, learning to control his own spark through junior year while living in a foster home, killing someone for the first time, loosing his best friend and in time the rest of his pack all before senior year. 

Stiles had known loss before high school having lost his mother, but Derek knew it had been too much all at once for him. Stiles didn't like bringing it up and Derek didn't like listening to it. 

"First time was third grade," Stiles continued, his hand moving from Derek's side to his lower back, bringing them a bit closer. "We were at someone's wedding, and I stood on my dad's toes. I was passed between parents for the dances, mom always held me on her hip and swayed us back and forth."

Derek leaned forward a bit, resting his chin on Stiles' shoulder. "That sounds really nice," he said. He felt Stiles nodding and settling his chin on Derek. 

He let go of Derek's hand, winding both arms around him. Derek did the same. 

"Wanna get out of here?" Stiles asked towards the end of the Stevie Nicks song. Derek pulled away and nodded, catching his tattooed hand and pulling him back to the table. 

"We'll be home later," Derek said. Peter gave them a knowing look but nodded, silencing Malia with a stern look as Derek and Stiles moved towards the exit. 

"Where are we going?" Stiles asked when the two were out of the crowded bar and into the fresh air. The sun was starting to set.

"Motel?" Derek asked, shrugging a bit. "Could stay the night, just the two of us?"

Stiles grinned. "Is there going to be sex involved?"

"Definitely," Derek said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think?? 
> 
> Lydia and Cora are soulmates, and Stiles and Derek dance to Fleetwood Mac and Stevie Nicks. 
> 
> After this comes the angst!!! 
> 
> Quick question (because I'm about as sexually active as a rock) what kind of sex would you want to see between Stiles and Derek? Positions, kinks (that fit with their characters), whatever! Let me know and maybe I'll fit a couple of them into the storyline!!


	24. Chapter 24

With Lydia staying at the loft, sleeping rearrangements had to be made. Cora and Malia still slept in Cora's bed upstairs. Lydia took the couch, which meant Peter was stuck sleeping with Stiles and Derek. 

After two days, Peter decided to take Malia up to Hood River to check on the progress of the houses. They'd be gone for a week. Stiles and Derek had their bed back, as well as Cora. Lydia stayed on the couch, and Derek could tell the two of them were a little shy around each other. 

Derek woke up to the bed empty, heard Stiles in the shower. It was Saturday. Derek looked over at the couch to see Lydia was up already as well, a cup of tea in one hand and her phone in the other. 

He grunted, sitting up and scrubbing at his face just as Cora bounded down the stairs. Derek watched the interaction as Lydia looked up from her phone. 

"There's coffee in the pot," she said. It didn't take long for Lydia to realize everyone preferred coffee to tea in the morning. 

Cora's sure steps faltered a bit as she looked at Lydia, a blush on her cheeks before she nodded. "Thanks," she said before making her way to the kitchen. 

Lydia went back to her phone. Derek climbed out of bed. He had slept in shorts. He twisted the elastic at his hips, scowling at the twisted piece of clothing before grabbing a shirt. 

The shower turned off. Derek decided to go next, and tugged out pants and boxers. 

The bathroom door opened, Stiles was dripping wet, a towel barely covering his lower half. 

"I forgot clothes," he said, stepping out and moving across the room. 

"Thats new," Lydia said, eyeing Stiles' back as he rummaged through the drawer, dripping water on the floor. 

Derek could only stare, mouth hanging open slightly. 

"What is?" Cora asked, walking out with her coffee. 

"Damn," Stiles grunted, straightening with a wad of clothes in hand. "I thought you'd all be asleep still."

Derek knows Stiles isn't shy about his body. On many occasions he had skipped the towel when it was just Derek. 

"How many more tattoos do you have?" Lydia asked, ignoring his statement. Stiles looked down to his chest, the tattoo over his chest split up by the pink scars slowly healing. There wasn't any more chance of them bleeding again. 

Derek still couldn't keep his eyes off, and moved to curl around Stiles' back and bury his face in Stiles' neck. 

"Tree on my back, trees on my ankle and the runes on my hips," Stiles answered, pressing back into Derek before turning his head and kissing Derek's cheek. 

"Let go, I gotta get dressed." Derek did with a huff and Stiles made his way back to the bathroom. 

"You're bitten!" Cora exclaimed, eyes widening. Derek instantly blushed, watching how Stiles paused at the door to the bathroom, free hand reaching up to the scar on his shoulder where Derek had marked him. 

"When did that happen?"

"A while ago," Stiles grinned, looking almost smug. It made Derek's cheeks turn redder. Without another word, Stiles dipped back into the bathroom to dry off and get dressed. 

"You bit him!" Cora gaped, moving to set her coffee on the coffee table beside Lydia's tea. "You didn't tell me!"

"You were at school," Derek shrugged. Cora did a happy little dance with her feet and squealed before jumping onto Derek. 

"I'm so happy for you, Der!" Cora nearly shrieked in his ear. Derek chuckled, burying his face in her hair to hide the embarrassed blush on his cheeks, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

"What's got you so excited?" Stiles asked, stepping out of the bathroom. Cora dropped to her feet, allowing Derek to take a look at him. 

He was in one of Derek's shirts and a pair of jeans. His hair was towel ruffled and still slightly damp. He was playing with his eyebrow ring absent-mindedly, grinning at Cora and Derek. 

Cora ran over to him, wrapping arms around his waist and lifting him off his feet. Derek laughed as Stiles' eyes widened, tattooed arms flailing a bit. 

"He bit you!" She grinned, dropping him to his feet. Stiles chuckled, taking a safe step back. 

"And knotted," Stiles smirked. Derek choked on his own spit, which got a small laugh from Lydia, and a wide grin from Stiles. Cora looked ready to throw up. 

"Excitement over," Cora blanched, moving from Stiles back to her cup of coffee. Stiles just laughed, plopping down on the couch opposite Lydia. 

"What's so significant about biting?" Lydia asked, shifting so she was facing Stiles. Derek moved to sit behind him, pulling Stiles against his chest. Cora sits on the coffee table. 

"We bite to claim," Derek managed. Because aparently he was the most experienced of the four of them when it came to mates now. Peter would be better to explain all of this, seeing as he had a mate and knew all about it. 

"Its like the soul mark, but more," he continued, arms tightening around Stiles. 

"Like a declaration of love?" Lydia asked. Derek's eyes widened and he quickly buried his face in the crook of Stiles' neck. 

"Lets not go saying the L-word," Stiles said, voice tight. Derek could feel his heart beating fast against him, could smell the rise in anxiety at Lydia's words. 

"Sorry," Lydia said, though she didn't sound it. Derek looked up at her, seeing her calculating eyes on Stiles, an eyebrow raised before she sips her tea and locks eyes with Derek. 

He almost wishes he could hide in Stiles' shoulder until she leaves, but he can't. 

"So, how did you two meet?" Lydia asked, changing the subject. Cora grins, having already heard the story from Derek, but she seems to settle a bit. She's not heard Stiles' side of it. 

"I was tailing a couple hunters and stumbled onto him," Stiles shrugged. "He looked like a pin cushion, and he was really fucking cute, so I told him-"

"You called me pretty little wolf," Derek corrected. "While I was inches from dying."

"Semantics," Stiles waved off, turning his head to press a kiss to Derek's jaw before facing Lydia again. "Anyway, after complimenting him he said 'fuck you', so I had to take him home."

Derek felt -not for the first time- like he was below Stiles on the supernatural food chain. The way Stiles talked about him, called him Puppy, wasn't afraid of his more animal side. 

Stiles was stronger than Derek in every way, and Stiles knew it. It wasn't that Stiles thought Derek was lesser than. If anything, Stiles treated Derek as an equal. But how he talked -he knew he was superior in every way. 

The way he called the Hales 'his wolves', how he spoke with such conviction when those hunters had Derek and Cora. How even with Scott, Stiles had been as possessive as an alpha to Derek. 

It was a little refreshing. Derek was no longer the thing people feared for his power. He was no longer the one to look down his nose at people. Now they had Stiles, who was possibly the strongest being in Beacon Hills. 

And that being, had taken one look at Derek and claimed Derek was worth sticking around. That Peter and Cora and Malia were just important enough to Stiles to become his. 

No one ever talked about Derek the way Stiles did. And if it had been anyone else, Derek might feel degraded. But he doesn't with Stiles. He feels claimed, taken care of. Possessed in the most intimate ways. Loved, maybe. 

"Taking men home five minutes after meeting isn't really new for you, Stiles," Lydia rolled her eyes. 

"He wouldn't let me fuck him," Stiles said, trying to prove Lydia wrong. Lydia looked slightly surprised, eyebrow raised as she looked to Derek. "Took me four months!"

"You've been together for four months," Cora mentioned, her own eyebrow raised. 

"I know," Stiles huffed, but he was grinning. "Which means we have a lot of catching up to do."

Cora made a face and Lydia let out a laugh. 

"Change the subject," Derek demanded in a growly voice. He didn't want to talk about his sex life with his little sister, or a practical stranger. 

"I got Cards against Humanity," Stiles suggested. After everyone agreed to playing, Stiles climbed out of Derek's hold, grabbing the game from one of the boxes Stiles had stacked against the wall next to his shoe boxes. 

They were mostly his Spark stuff, or things that wouldn't fit in the loft. Derek couldn't wait to move to Hood River so the two of them could unpack their lives into one space. 

The four of them played for the whole day, breaking for pizza and bathroom breaks. Derek never played before, and wasn't expecting the game to be as raunchy as it was. 

He wasn't surprised it was Stiles' favorite, especially when he won a black card that said 'why am I sticky' with 'getting cummed on'. 

It was a lot of fun, and Derek noticed how Cora and Lydia seemed to relax around each other, which was great. Derek couldnt remember the last time he laughed or smiled that much. 

That night, while Lydia passed out on the couch, Stiles curled himself around Derek, legs tangled together and chests pressed close. 

Derek nuzzled against his throat, placing open mouthed kisses on the skin. 

"Hey," Stiles said softly. Derek pulled back, looking at him questioningly. "About what Lydia said earlier."

Derek opened his mouth to tell Stiles not to worry about it, but Stiles set a finger against his mouth. 

"Just listen, okay, Puppy?" When Derek nodded, Stiles exhaled a long breath. He pulled Derek into his chest, chin pressed into Derek's head. 

"I'm not good at this communication thing," he grunted. Derek smiled against his skin, nodding in agreement. 

"Thats okay," Derek said. 

Stiles let out a long breath. "The only people who ever said 'I love you' were my parents and Scott. I don't associate anything good with those words. They've been the last thing both my parents said to me, and Scott said it to pacify me after a fight."

Derek kept quiet, listening to his words and the uptick of his heart. Stiles tightened his arms around Derek. 

"He thought if he reminded me, that I wouldn't stay angry, or would accept that as an apology. He used those words to manipulate me into forgiving him." Derek felt a growl in his chest, tried to stamp it out, but couldn't. Stiles huffed and pulled him even closer. 

"I'm not dense," Stiles continued softly. "I know what the bite means. And I'm sorry for not being able to say it back."

Derek lifted his head, pressing their mouths together. He felt a little tenseness leave Stiles' shoulders and pulled back enough to brush his nose against Stiles' cheek. 

"You don't have to say it," Derek said. Stiles smiled, looking relieved. He kissed Derek again before the two settled into each other for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cute little filler chapter! Soon the angst will commence!!!! Let me know what you guys think!! I absolutely love your comments!


	25. Chapter 25

Cora and Lydia seemed to be more comfortable around each other the following day. Cora was shy around Lydia -which was a first for her. 

Derek's never seen her act so timid around anyone, but he guessed the same could be said about Derek when it came to Stiles. The Hale siblings had been hardened by loss. They kept their feelings locked up, never let anyone get too close. 

But with soulmates it was different. That wall that kept Cora and Derek safe from any future harm was made of styrofoam when it came to Stiles and Lydia. Derek had been terrified of it, and Cora was now. 

Stiles and Lydia were on the couch, talking in low voices. Derek and Cora could still hear them, but no one minded. They were talking about Lydia's prediction, trying to figure out what it could mean. 

Cora opened the heavy barn door, a stack of letters in her hand. She was in running shorts and a sports bra. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail. 

"Good run?" Derek asked from his spot in the kitchen. Cora nodded, dropping the mail on the small table by the door before toe-heeling out of her runners. 

"I made it all the way to the preserve and back," she said, grinning. 

"Of course you would like running," Stiles grunted, smirking at her from his spot on the couch. Lydia had eyes for Cora, and Derek found he wasn't so upset with her looking at his sister the way she was. There was no urge to stand in the way or cover her. 

"How else do you think I get these legs?" Cora grinned, heading for the stairs. 

"Werewolf genes," Stiles answered. Derek rolled his eyes, walking over to Stiles and leaning over the back of thr couch to kiss him. 

"You do know thats not a thing right?" He asked. 

"I know for a fact it is a thing," Stiles answered. "You should've seen Scott before he was bitten. Total Peter Parker transformation and everything."

"Same thing happened with Erica," Lydia said off handed. Stiles rolled his eyes. 

"Don't get me started on Erica."

"What about Erica?" Cora asked, bounding down the stairs in clean clothes, hair down. 

"Her transformation after the bite," Stiles answered. 

"She was definitely the most dramatic of the group," Lydia said with a roll of her eyes. 

Derek leaned his elbows on the couch, settling a bit for the story. He didn't get to hear a lot about Stiles' past -at least not his side of things- and Erica was a mutual topic all of them could get behind. 

"She used to have seizures in high school," Stiles said. "She was bit around the same time he bit Boyd and Issac."

"Unfortunately for everyone involved, it was in just after the alpha pack and the Darach," Lydia said. So after Stiles' dad died. Meaning Scott didn't become an alpha until around that time too. No one knew who bit the three stooges, but whoever it was had probably died in the fight. 

"It was like the third Spiderman movie, you know, where Peter's possessed by Venom, and his whole wardrobe and personality switched in the worst possible way."

Stiles grunted his agreement. "She used to be really quiet, wore baggy clothes, no makeup," Stiles continued. "The day after she was bit, she showed up at school in the shortest skirt she could find and an ungodly amount of self confidence."

"I'm surprised no one caught on," Lydia huffed, subconsciously moving to give Cora room on the couch beside her. 

"So, Scott didn't bite them?" Cora asked. 

"Please," Stiles rolled his eyes. "The only reason he bit Liam was because the kid was seconds away from being a sidewalk pancake."

"Who bit them?"

"Ennis or Kali," Stiles shrugged. "After everything, Scott took them in."

"Which wasn't discussed with us," Lydia said with an eye roll. Derek moved to sit too, pulling Stiles into his lap. Stiles stretched his legs out to lay over Lydia's. 

"You were apart of his pack too?" Cora asked, eyeing Lydia. The red head nodded with a scowl. 

"Stiles and I are the last of the original pack," she said. Stiles leaned back on Derek. He had told him about the others in the pack. About the two brunettes. One of them died and the other left. 

"I was mad then," Stiles continued. "And couldn't control my Spark. Scott started warning the new betas against me, maybe at first to make sure I wouldn't accidentally hurt them, but it changed after Donovan."

"I left around the same time Kira did," Lydia said. "A little after Liam was bitten. I couldn't stand the pack, not after everything they put Stiles through."

"Yeah well, they haven't improved much since," Cora scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. 

"Good thing we're leaving," Stiles grinned, and Derek tightened his hold around him. 

"You're finally leaving Beacon Hills?" Lydia asked. Stiles nodded and Lydia smiled fondly at him. "Good."

"You're welcome to join us," Derek said. They had three houses being built. One for each of the mates, and one for Peter and Malia. He had Cora in mind with the suggestion. 

Lydia's eyes shifted to Cora, who fidgeted a little in her seat, not really making eye contact. Lydia looked back at Derek, giving him a small smile. 

"Maybe," she said. "I've got a job back home, and, I think moving in would be a bit too fast."

Cora was still looking at her lap, cheeks flaming pink. Even Lydia's cheeks looked a little flush. 

The four of them continued to talk, Stiles easily fitting both Cora and Lydia in the conversation without it seeming forced. 

Cora was at a loss for what to do with Lydia, so Derek pulled the big brother card around dinner time. 

"Want to go eat with me?" Derek asked, sitting beside Cora. "Just us two?"

"Yeah," Cora said, sagging a bit in relief. Derek smiled before the two got up. He walked over to the kitchen were Stiles and Lydia were still talking, making what looked like hamburger helper. 

"Cora and I are going out for dinner," he said, curling an arm around Stiles. He smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his chin. 

"Have fun," he said. Derek nodded, kissing his mouth before heading for the door. 

"Oh, hey, Stiles," Cora called, already in her shoes. "There's a letter addressed to you here."

Derek frowned at that. Stiles hadn't changed his address from what he knew. But it was possible Stiles had something sent to him here at the loft. 

"Really?" Stiles asked, sounding just as surprised from his spot hidden in the kitchen. "Okay, thanks."

Derek and Cora took the Camero downtown to the diner Stiles took him to. It was cozy, and Helen grinned at him when he stepped through. 

"Hello, dear," she greeted. Derek smiled at her. "Who's this?"

"Cora, my sister," Derek said, the two of them moving to sit in the booth Stiles always sat at. 

"Its nice to meet you, hon," Helen said, moving to stand beside their table. "Stiles not here?"

"No, he's visiting with an old friend," Derek explained. A sad kind of fondness filled her features. 

"Good, the boy needs someone in his life."

Derek and Cora both smiled up at her. "Well, what can I get you two to drink?"

Derek waited for their food to arrive before he spoke, watching Cora dip her fries in ranch. Derek's own fries were covered in ketchup. 

"So?" He asked encouragingly. "Lydia?"

Cora instantly blushed. She dropped the fry in her hand and wiped her fingers on the napkin. 

"I don't know what to do!" She whined. Derek gave her a small smile. "She's so gorgeous, and out of my league. I don't know how to talk to her!"

"Talk to her like you'd talk to anyone else," Derek suggested. 

"I can't!" Cora said, another whine in her throat. "Its not like talking to other people. She's mine, and- and what if I say something wrong?"

"You two are soulmates," Derek said. "It doesn't matter how different you two are, you're meant to be together."

Cora made a pained noise, nearly dropping her head on the table. "Is this how you felt with Stiles?"

Derek chuckled and shook his head. "I was terrified of Stiles, and we didn't really start off slow."

Cora groaned, head falling back into the bench. "You're no help."

"Just talk to her, Cor," Derek said. "She's just as into you as you are to her."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Derek grinned. "She can't take her eyes off you."

*-*

"So, you and Cora," Stiles grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. Lydia rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide the blush on her cheeks. 

"You and Derek," she countered. Stiles' smirk turned soft and he reached for his eyebrow piercing, twisting the hoop. 

"Yeah," he said, sounding almost wistful. Damn, he made Stiles so soft. Lydia just smiled. 

"Who wouldve thought Mr. Stiles Stilinski -magic wielding man whore- would settle with his soulmate?" She grinned. "I thought if you ever found him you'd still have fun."

Stiles shrugged. He had thought the same thing. He didn't hold soulmates in high esteem. He liked fucking notches on his bed posts more. 

He never wanted to meet his soulmate, and had told himself if he did, that person would be treated the same he treated everyone else he took to bed. 

But then he found Derek lying there on the porch of his burned out home. Had seen the recognition in his eyes, heard the words inked on his inner thigh, and it was like that thought process took a sudden left turn and Stiles hadn't been able to catch up to it. 

Derek had somehow wiggled his way under Stiles' skin, pushed everything out of the way and made his home. Stiles hadn't thought about fucking anyone else since laying eyes on Derek.

It terrified him. Everything about Derek was terrifying from the way he smiled down at his feet to the way he breathlessly whimpered his name when Stiles touched him just right. 

"Its a surprise to us both," Stiles said, making his way to the end table by the door. He wanted to get away from his thoughts and Lydia's knowing eyes. 

He frowned as he picked up the letter with his name on it. There was no address. Just his name scrawled across the white paper. 

"Who sent it?" Lydia asked from her spot on the couch. 

"Whoever sent it put it directly in the mailbox," Stiles frowned, running his finger under the lip before pulling out the thick card. It was plain, a print of three balloons on the cover, one green, one red and the other blue. 

In fancy lettering was the word 'Surprise!' and Stiles' frown deepened. 

"Its a card," Stiles frowned, turning around and heading back to the couch, eyes still on the card as he opened it. 

Dark fine powder shot into the air from a small spring inside the card. Stiles inhaled, coughing violently. His eyes widened. 

"What? What is it?" Lydia was already on her feet. Stiles staggered a bit, card and envelope dropping to the floor. 

"Iron," he gasped out, dropping to his knees, his world going blurry around the edges. 

He heard the barn door sliding open, heard Lydia's scream being cut short. He dropped to his side, vision going in and out. He caught boots walking towards him, tried to get up, but his body wasn't working. 

Someone crouched in front of him, blonde hair framing sharp features. Stiles rolled onto his back to get a better look at her, forcing himself to stay conscious for as long as possible. 

"Hello, sweetheart," the woman grinned. Stiles grunted, managing to get an arm under him. He couldn't feel his Spark, he was powerless as the woman reached into her pocket, pulling out a handful of loose grey powder. 

"What-"

The girl opened her palm and blew. Stiles was hit with a cloud of iron, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he dropped to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for a new chapter!! Sorry for leaving you guys on a cliff hanger. 
> 
> I need your guys' help with something. I'm non-binary, and I've been struggling with finding a name for myself because my birth name is too feminine. I go by Alex online but that name doesn't fit me at all anymore. Would you guys help me pick out a name?
> 
> I have three options. Fox, Moss and Basil. I know you guys don't know me at all, so it's gonna have to be based on the little info I can give but I'd really love some help picking between the three. 
> 
> So, to help you guys decide, here's a bit about me: I am a goblin, want to travel everywhere, my dream is to live off grid with two dogs, a cat, chickens and bunnies. I collect animal bones and have many plant babies. I live in a 1968 Shasta camper and aside from Ao3 and Tumblr, I have no other form of social media. 
> 
> Hope that helps! Which ever name gets the most votes will be my new name!! Thank you guys for helping and reading!!


	26. Chapter 26

Stiles woke up with a pounding headache. His lungs burned from inhaling the iron powder. He managed to peel his eyes open, the room was bare, covered in dark stains that looked really similar to blood. 

Chans hung from the ceiling, a fence was against the far wall, hooked up to batteries. The chair he was sitting in was made of wood. It was sticky in spots, and Stiles wondered what exactly made it that way. 

His arms were bound behind his back, and Stiles gave an experimental tug. He could feel the iron cuffs cutting into his exposed skin, and realized his shirt was off. 

He still had his pants on, but his shoes and socks were also gone. Stiles leaned forward as best he could, gritting his teeth when he saw the baking pan under his feet. There was no water in it yet, but he could see the exposed wires tapped to the sides and followed them to a battery. 

He closed his eyes, looking inward and finding his spark deep in his chest. It was easy to find, nestled in darkness just like his heart. The darkness cradled his spark, kept it safe. 

Stiles pushed outwards, but his power stopped just below his skin. The iron kept him human. He gritted his teeth. Whoever got him definitely knew what they were dealing with. 

He was in a basement -the windows too high on the walls. They were blacked out with black spray paint. The walls were stained concrete, matching thr floor. Stiles couldn't help but shiver at the spray of browns and backs and knew those were a result of arterial spray. 

People had died gruesome deaths in this room, and if Stiles had to guess, this room belonged to hunters and that blood belonged to the supernatural. 

Stiles set his jaw, glancing behind him to see what was holding his arms together. He could barely see the rope tying his wrists to the chair, could see the iron bangle cuffs on each wrist. 

He twisted one arm a little, gritting his teeth at the odd angle, but he needed to see if he could get them off. These weren't the decorative bangle cuffs women wore around their wrists, or the Bracelets of Submission Wonder Woman wore -though thats basically what Stiles was wearing. 

The iron cuffs didn't have an open back he could just slip off, it was locked around his wrist with a rod like a ball-bearing hinge. 

One good thing, was they weren't connected together. Meaning if Stiles could get the rope off, he'd be able to get them off himself. 

He faced forward again, bracing his bare feet in the baking pan before twisting his hands in an attempt to find the end of the rope. 

He had just barely pinched it between his first and second fingers when the door ahead of him slammed open. Stiles kept his face clear, staring at the three people who entered the room. 

He took them all in. The older man with thinning white hair wearing a pair of dark brown slacks and a gray shirt. The woman he recognized from the loft -blonde hair, sharp features, wearing black skinny jeans, a tight blue long sleeve shirt and brown boots. The third man was someone Stiles had seen around town. Dark skinned, nearly black eyes, wearing a black wife beater and a pair of ripped jeans. 

"Ah, good, you're awake," the old man grinned. He looked frail, but Stiles didn't assume he wasn't capable. Couldn't underestimate any of them, especially when he was powerless against them. 

"I'm impressed," Stiles said, leaning back against the chair, letting his knees fall open in a relaxed stance. "Not many people know about iron."

"You're not the first Spark we've had the pleasure of meeting, sweetheart," the blonde grinned, and she looked feral. Stiles cocked an eyebrow. Stiles had yet to meet another Spark -they were extremely rare. 

"She's the one who told us about your little Achilles heel," the old man said. "All that power, and all it takes to snuff it out is a little metal."

"I bruise like a grape," Stiles said. "Side effect of iron deficiency. But small sacrifices, am I right?"

The blond chuckled, her voice gravelly. She stepped up to Stiles, hands on the arm rests. She leaned in close, forcing Stiles' head back. 

"We ran into your friend," she grinned. It looked more animal than human. "Told us all about how powerful you are."

"Does my friend have a name?" Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow. He knew it must've been the twin. 

"Didn't ask," she said. "Too busy redecorating." She gestured to the walls and floor. "Like it?"

"Its a little too Chainsaw Massacre for my tastes, but who am I to judge."

The woman chuckled again, looking back at the old man with an amused look before looking back at Stiles, her hair falling forward in curled waves. 

"I like you," she said. "You're cute, and funny."

"I'm taken," Stiles responded. "And gay."

"I really hope you give us what we want, little Spark," she continued. "I would hate to have to kill you."

"I would hate to be killed," Stiles huffed. "So why don't you tell me what you want and then I can get back to my mate."

That got the woman's grin widening. "Thats right, you're mated to Derek." 

Stiles raised an eyebrow, keeping his face neutral. "I don't know if he's mentioned me, but I was the one who came before you."

"Must not've been very important, because I've never heard of you," Stiles said, growing irritated. He needed to get out of the ropes, but he couldn't do that with the blonde breathing in his face. 

"Well, that's not really important right now," she said, smirking. "We have plans for Derek and his pack later."

"You're not touching my wolves," Stiles sneered, jaw clenching. 

"Your wolves?" She asked. "Someone's a bit possessive, hmm?"

"What do you want."

"The first Spark we found wasn't very powerful," the old man spoke up. The blond straightened and took a step from Stiles, giving him much needed space to start getting thr knot undone. 

"She didn't have a strong power of will," he continued. "But you on the other hand."

Stiles cocked an eyebrow, fingers grasping the end of the rope again. 

"We've heard all about you from the alpha kid," the old man smiled. "What you can do with your will alone is incredible."

"I'm flattered," Stiles hummed. "But I'm not a gun for hire. You want your dirty work done You're going to have to do it the old fashioned way."

The old man chuckled. "Thats not exactly what we had in mind."

"We want you to use your little Spark and heal him," Blondie said with a nod towards the old man. 

"You don't look injured."

"Cancer," the old man said. Stiles gave a low hum, lips thinning as he looked from the old man to the blonde. 

"Yeah, sorry, I don't heal people," Stiles said with a shrug. He got a better grip of the rope and tugged slowly. 

"Either you heal him, or I kill you, and your little pack," the blonde threatened. 

This time Stiles glared up at her. "I'm not stupid," he snapped. "You're going to do that whether I heal him or not. I'm saying I can't heal him. I don't know how."

"Sweetheart, we're not stupid either," the woman chuckled, stepping forward. Stiles felt the rope loosen and quickly yanked his arms free, reaching for the bangles. He jumped to his feet, one of the cuffs falling to the ground before the chi-chick of a rifle being loaded made him freeze. 

The third person was beside him, rifle pointed to his head. Stiles' fingers were inches away from the rod keeping the other bangle on his wrist. He wouldn't be fast enough to do anything. 

The blonde rushed him, slamming him back down into the chair by his neck, upper lip pulled back in a sneer. 

"Look at you, clever little Spark," she grunted. Stiles curled a hand around her wrist, trying to relieve the pressure on his neck. 

"Not clever," Stiles rasped out. The dark skinned man was already grabbing his hand, yanking his arm down before tying ropes to the arm rest, locking him in place. "You're horrible at tying knots."

The blonde laughed before pulling her hand back from his neck and grabbing his wrist. 

"How about we do something about that, hmm, Houdini?" She grinned, holding his wrist down at the man tied his other arm to the chair. 

Stiles flexed his hands, feeling the lack of blood flow to his fingers at how tight the guy tied them. 

"You really think I'm going to help you?" Stiles demanded, glaring first at the blonde and then at the older man. "You think tying me to a chair and threatening whats mine is going to get me to magically heal you?"

"Yes," the old man smirked. "Thats exactly what we think."

The blonde walked over to the room behind Stiles, but he didn't look behind to see what she was doing. He kept his eyes on the old man. 

"I already told you, I don't heal people," Stiles gritted out. "I don't know how."

"Well," the man said, stepping forward with his hands clasped behind his back. "Then I guess you better figure it out."

Stiles clenched his jaw, fingers curling against his palms. The blonde came back into his line of sight, holding a bloodied wooden bat. There were dents and splinters, chunks missing. Stiles eyed it, not letting the trepidation show on his face. 

"Now, tell me, little Spark," Blondie grinned. "Do you need both hands to use your magic?"

Stiles' eyes widened just a little as she lifted the bat. He tugged at his arms, tried to push the chair back out of her path. 

"No, wait‐!"

She swung. Stiles let out a piercing cry when he felt the bones in his hand break and splinter. Instant tears welled in his eyes, his whole body trembling. Stiles let out another shout, head falling back and lower lip trembling as he sucked in a shaky, shallow breath. 

"Remember, sweetheart," the blonde said, bat still in hand. Stiles had to force himself not to let out a noise, but the gasps and sobs still slipped past his lips, pain radiating up his arm. 

The blonde leaned over Stiles, a small smile on her face. "You're not our only option. If you continue to not be of use to us, we're going to kill you, and its not going to be quick and painless."

With that, the three left rhe room, swinging thr door shut behind them. Stiles held it together for a couple seconds after they left before letting an agonized yawp leave his mouth, his body trembling and tears staining his cheeks. 

He looked down at his hand, seeing the disfigured fingers. He felt bile rise in his throat at seeing the bine sticking out from the back of his hand, blood dripping from the gaping wound. 

He sucked in a breath, holding it and forcing himself to calm down. He just had to get out. He had to get out and then he'd kill them all. 

Stiles let out another wail, the sound being choked off as he swallowed thickly. He couldn't get the last cuff off, he realized. He couldn't move his hand. 

Even if by some miracle he managed to get the ropes off, his fingers were useless. He wouldn't be able to get the rod out of the last bangle. 

His cry of pain turned into a yell of anger, his whole body alive with his spark having nowhere else to go. 

He yanked at the rope with his good hand, threw his back into the chair to try and knock it over, but nothing worked. The chair was bolted to the floor. 

Deep breath, figure it out. Deep breath, figure it out. Stiles managed to calm himself down again, forcing himself to look around, try to find a way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go!! Hope you guys like it!!
> 
> As for my name, the votes are in and have been tallied! Coming in last place with only 9 votes was Fox! Moss has 13 votes, and Basil has 15 votes! 
> 
> So, new introduction!! Hello! My name is Basil and I cannot thank you all enough for helping me pick it out!!!!


	27. Chapter 27

Two days had passed. Each visit from the hunters left Stiles in more pain than the visit before. The first day, in an attempt to get Stiles to do what they wanted, they had filled his little baking pan full of water and connected the battery. 

It was the worst feeling in the world, like all his nerves were being burned from the ends, every muscle was locked and twitching. He found it hard to take in a breath, to think. He couldn't feel his heart beating until they turned it off, and then it was beating too fast. 

They didn't bump up the power enough to kill him, but it sure as fuck felt like it. On many occasions that first day he ended up passing out from the pain and exhaustion alone. 

On the second day, he was no longer in the chair. The blonde was very partial to her bat, and wasn't afraid of hobbling Stiles with it. 

His right shoulder was dislocated -which didn't matter, because he couldn't use his right hand anyway. She had crushed his left kneecap, making it impossible for him to stand. 

He held his right arm stifly against his chest. He was in and out of consciousness, awakened by pain. The blonde didn't lie when she said he'd die slow. 

It took them a day to realize Stiles really couldn't heal, and therefore he was useless to them. They monologed during their time in the basement with Stiles, and he had just enough presence of mind to listen. 

They were Argents. Allison's family. It was kind of poetic, Stiles had thought. Being killed by an argent after not being able to save one. 

Well, two, if he was being honest. When Jennifer had taken Stiles' dad and Scott's mom, Allison's dad, Chris had been taken too. Melissa was the only one who made it. 

Allison's death had also been on his hands, so it was only fair that he died by Argents. 

Stiles could put the pieces together. Kate was the one who orchestrated the fire that killed Derek's family. On top of arson, she was also responsible for messing with a fifteen year old Derek Hale. 

The woman was sick in the head, and Stiles really wanted her to suffer. But he couldn't do anything. The iron cuff on his wrist was stuck there until someone got it off, and there was no chance of that happening. 

He had just barely managed to prop himself up against the wall when the door opened and Kate came back in, a grin on her face like she was walking into a candy shop. 

"Not dead yet?" Kate asked, crouching down in front of him. Stiles clenched his jaw, glaring up at her. 

"Oh, don't give me that look," she huffed, pouting and running a hand through Stiles' hair. He jerked his head away, which sent a jolt of pain down his right arm. 

"You know," she continued, standing to her feet and walking to the table on the far end of the room, picking up the bat again, letting it swing back and forth at her side. "I'm on the fence about something. Maybe you can help me out."

"Bite me," Stiles snapped out. He tasted blood on his tongue. Could smell the blood caking one of his nostrils shut. 

Kate just chuckled and swung the bat, the wood connecting with his bad leg. It wasn't enough to break the bone, but it hurt like a bitch and Stiles hollered. 

"I don't know what I'm going to do with our little wolf," she said, leaning against the bat. Stiles bit into his cheek to keep himself from crying out again, panting for air. 

"I mean, I have plans for him, unlike the rest of that sad excuse of a pack he's surrounded himself with. But I don't know which will be more fun."

Kate kicked the bat out from under her hand, swinging it up so it rested against her shoulder. 

"I could wait to kill you until he's here. Let him watch as I break every bone in your body until you're begging for death. Force him to watch as I give you exactly that," she said, smiling at the thought. "Or I could kill you now, and watch as he tries so desperately to find a pulse. Watch him try to shake you awake the same way he shook his mother."

Stiles screwed his eyes shut, taking a breath. 

"Do whatever the fuck you want," he managed. "But you're not getting Derek."

Kate laughed again before swinging the bat, connecting with his thigh again. Stiles let out a long, agonized cry, cut off when her bat hit again. 

Stiles rolled, trying to get out of her shot, until he heard and felt the bone snap. Another hit in the same place had Stiles' world going white before he dropped off into unconsciousness. 

*-*

"Der, we'll find him," Cora said. Derek was loosing control. He couldn't hold back his shift. The furniture took most of his abuse, as well as the abandoned rooms in the building. 

Two days. Stiles had been gone for two days without a word. Derek should've known. He shouldn't have left Stiles and Lydia unprotected. Not after Lydia's prediction. 

Electricity and bones breaking. That's what Lydia had heard, and she knew it would be Stiles, but no one listened. No one took it seriously and now Stiles was gone. 

When Derek and Cora had come back after their dinner that night, Lydia was on the ground unconsciousness with a busted lip and a bruise forming under her eye. And Stiles had just been gone. 

"It was the letter," Lydia had said when Cora managed to get her to sit up. "He opened the letter. It was filled with iron."

Derek had been close to tears then. Had wanted nothing more than to run out of thr loft and search for him on foot. 

"Then these people came in and hit me," Lydia continued. "Stiles had just, just dropped!"

Now Derek was pissed. Lydia had seen who did it. Kate and Gerard. They'd taken Stiles. 

Peter and Malia had been called and they were on their way back to Beacon Hills to help look for him. 

He grabbed the coffee table -one of the few remaining intact pieces of furniture and hefted it into the air. 

He let out a growling war cry as he threw it into the brick wall. Cora stepped forward, trying to get him to calm down, and Lydia moved back, out of his way in case Derek accidently hurt her. 

Derek knew he needed to calm down, but he couldn't. He knew Kate. He knew what she was capable of. 

"Derek, please," Cora urged. "We're going to find him-"

"We've looked everywhere!" Derek bellowed, spinning to her with blue eyes. His fangs and claws had dropped and he couldn't bring himself to put them away. "Stiles could be anywhere! He could be- he could already be dea-dead!"

The anger left him so quickly that he dropped to his knees, a sob ripping from his throat. Cora quickly dropped down in front of him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. 

"He's not dead," she said. "We're going to find him. Peter and Malia will be here any minute, and we'll get him back, I promise."

Derek hugged her back, gripping her shirt tightly and letting another sob wrack his shoulders. He couldn't loose Stiles. He couldn't loose another person he loved. Not to Kate. 

At first, Derek had waited for Stiles to come back home. Had paced the floor with worry waiting for him to poof back into the loft saying he was okay and that Kate was dead. 

But the hours passed and he didn't show. Derek knew something was wrong then, and Cora had gotten ahold of Peter. 

If Kate knew what Stiles' weakness was, then there was no doubt in Derek's mind that she would exploit it.

Lydia explained to them in a shaky breath that iron was Stiles' weakness. The one thing that could shackle his Spark and leave him defenseless. 

He didn't pay attention to Peter and Malia entering the loft until Peter had Derek on his feet, pulling him into his chest with a hand on the back of Derek's neck. 

The strong scent of alpha suffocated him, and Derek took large gulps of air, clawing at Peter desperately, burying his face in Peter's neck. 

"We're going to get him back," Peter said, voice low and growly. "And we're going to rip Kate apart."

Derek could only nod, worried if he spoke he'd either start bawling or fly off into another rage. Peter pulled Derek back by his shoulders, eyes flashing red as he looked at Derek, then at the rest of the pack. 

"Now, here's what we're going to do," he said, grip on Derek's shoulder strong. "We're going to find Scott and his little band of misfit toys, and then we're going to search all of Beacon Hills until we find those mother fuckers."

"Scott?" Cora asked. 

"I don't care how bad of an alpha he is, if he wants to keep his eyeballs in his head, he's going to help us get Stiles back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada!!! So I usually end the book after the conflict is resolved, but I think I'm going to extend it! Get some really domestic pack shit written out for you guys with plenty of bonding and healing for all of them! 
> 
> A bit of a spoiler for you guys!! Stiles learns he can do more with his Spark than he thought, and there are lots of chickens in their future!!
> 
> Also, I changed my username!! Instead of ItsAces_Alex, I'm now ItsMe_Basil!!!  
> Let me know what you think! What would you guys like to see during this domesticity after the conflict???? I need lottsa ideas!


	28. Chapter 28

The Hales and Lydia made their way to Scott's house. Derek hadn't spoken to any of them in a while, but that didn't stop him from walking in unannounced. 

It was a challenge if anyone saw one, but Derek was pissed. Peter was rifht behind him, followed by everyone else. 

"Derek? What the fuck-"

Derek let out a growl, grabbing Scott by the shirt and slamming him into the wall. 

"This is your fault!" He growled low. 

"What are you talking about!?"

"If you had just killed Kate and Gerard when you had the chance, then Stiles would be here!"

"What?"

"Our little Spark was taken from the loft two days ago," Peter said, voice calm and relaxed. Derek knew he was angry though. He was really good at hiding it. "The Argents have him. We want him back."

"I don't know where he is," Scott growled, shoving Derek back and stepping away from the wall. "He can take care of himself."

"They know about the iron," Lydia spoke up, stepping out from behind Cora and Malia. Scott looked at her in shock for a second before looking at Derek. 

"I don't know where he is," Scott said, voice a bit softer. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you are," Derek spit out. Scott's face pinched at that, eyebrows nearly touching and eyes flashing red. 

"Stiles was my friend," Scott snapped. "I don't like him, but I don't want him dead, Derek."

"Could've fooled me!" Derek growled back. 

"Both of you stop it!" Lydia snapped, voice shrill. Derek instantly backed off, glaring at Scott with a clenched jaw. 

"We need your help," Lydia said, stepping closer to Scott and Derek so she stood right beside Peter. "I know you know where the Argents would take him."

Scott glared at everyone, but his eyes were soft with Lydia. Derek hoped that was enough to get him to help them. 

"I know a few places," Scott sighed. "Allison took me to them, but I don't know where all of them are."

"We just want to find Stiles," Lydia said. "He doesn't deserve to die by their hands."

Derek could tell Scott was arguing with himself over it. On one hand, Scott and Stiles had been best friends since kindergarten. On the other hand, Stiles was the Joker to Scott's Batman. Derek just hoped the history before would sway him because if it didn't, Derek was willing to drag his little werewolf ass all across Beacon Hills. 

"I'll call Erica, Boyd and Issac," he sighed, resigned. Derek couldnt wait around. He spun on his heel and stormed out of the house, hands shaking as he paced the porch. 

"Were going to find him, nephew," Peter said, stepping outside. Derek looked up at him, eyes flashing blue. It wasn't a challenge to Peter, and thankfully the alpha didn't take it as so. Derek couldnt control himself. 

"I'm going to kill her," he growled, claws digging into his palms. "I'm going to rip her head off."

"Neither of them are going to get away with this," Peter reassured, stepping closer to place a hand on Derek's shoulder. "They can't have more than a handful of places they could take him."

Derek took a breath and nodded just as the rest of the pack and Scott came out. 

*-*

The Argents had six places scattered across Beacon Hills that they could take Stiles -that Scott knew of. 

Scott's pack stuck with Derek's. None of the Hales trusted them to actually have Stiles' well being in mind. 

The first place they looked was at the old Argent residence. The home owners were out of town for the season, so it was easy to break in and search the house. There was a passage in the basement that lead to a second hiding spot. 

Both places were abandoned. Another place was a warehouse not far from the abandoned office building Derek and Cora had been in. 

That was not empty. Scott's pack took care of the ammunition stockpiled in large wooden crates while the Hales took care of the hunters. Derek felt better with blood on his hands, but it didn't last longer than it took for them to head for another hideaway. 

"Its getting dark," Scott said as they walked down the cement tunnel under ground. 

"We're not stopping," Derek growled, hands clenching in his fists. Scott said nothing. 

Issac, Boyd and Erica kept their distance to the Hales, even Lydia -who had her fingers intertwined with Cora's. There was a tenseness to the air between packs, on top of the tenseness of finding Stiles. 

Derek didn't trust them not to let Stiles die. To let the hunters go. His pack knew they'd do whatever it took to get Stiles back, and they'd all agree the hunters responsible were going to die. 

Derek wanted Kate. He wanted her blood on his hands, her muscles under his claws. He wanted to hear her crying out in pain, thr gurgle of her trying to breathe without her esophagus. He wanted to look into her eyes when she realized she wouldn't get away. 

So he kept going. The Hales pushed through Beacon Hills with the help of Scott's knowledge on the Argent's hideaways. 

Derek just hoped Stiles was in one of the places Scott knew about. 

They were in the preserve, heading for the second to last spot, and Derek felt like he was going to snap. If they couldn't find him tonight, Derek would burn all of Beacon Hills until he did. 

The entrance was near the lookout point. Scott took them to a large drainage pipe, the metal bars bent at odd angles. 

Peter and Derek went in first. Cora, Lydia and Malia walked in last, forcing the McCall pack in the middle. The tunnel was long. Derek could barely see ahead of him, and he worried momentarily of running into the wall, but Peter's eyes were glowing red, leading the way. 

Scott's eyes were also read, the glow not enough to illuminate anything but their cheeks. 

"The door there," Scott said, nodding to Peter's right. Peter wordlessly turned to it and broke the handle off, reaching the door open and stepping in. 

The room was illuminated by a single bulb hanging from thr ceiling. Derek inhaled, eyes flashing blue at the scent of Stiles and blood. 

He stormed past Peter, following his nose to a door. He was about to pull it open when a second door opened and then the sound of guns going off echoed in thr concrete room. 

Light flashes from the barrels nearly blinded Derek, but he charged the closest hunter, yanking the gun from his hands and slamming it back into his face. 

It was a crazy mess of hunters and werewolves. Cora had Lydia in the corner, keeping her safe. The McCall pack wasn't actually killing the hunters. Derek ripped his claws through someone's throat, knowing he would go back through and make sure no one survived. 

And then he saw Kate and his vision bled red. He let out a howled growl, charging at her. He jumped over fallen hunters, reaching her just as she turned the shotgun towards him. 

Derek grabbed the barrel, yanked the gun from her hand and threw it to the ground before digging claws into her shoulders and slamming her into the cement wall, hard enough to feel her back breaking in a few places. 

He didn't give her time to speak, didn't speak himself. Instead, he pulled his clawed hand from her shoulder and raised it over his shoulder. 

"Derek, stop!" Scott yelled. Derek turned his head, a growled breath leaving his throat as he glared at Scott. 

The other hunters were dead, or unconsciousness. Peter stepped between Derek and Scott, ready to fight thr true alpha to let Derek do what he needed. 

"You can't! She needs to go to prison!"

"She needs to die," Derek growled. His voice held no human sound. It was low and gravelly. He turned back to Kate, who's eyes were wide, her hands scrambling to get him off. She couldn't move, even if he didn't have her pressed into the wall. 

He swung his hand down, claws spicing through skin and catching on her spine. The arterial spray soaked through his shirt. She gaped at him like a fish, hands clawing at her throat to try and stem thr bleeding. 

Derek dropped his hold on her and she crumpled to his feet. Derek turned from her, ignoring Scott and his pack to get to Stiles. 

He swung the door open, rushed inside and dropped to his knees beside a huddled form that could only be Stiles. 

"Stiles," he called softly, reaching for him. He grabbed his shoulder, rolling him over. Stiles let out a pained noise, and Derek whined a little, looking over him. 

He was in just his jeans, his right hand was crumpled up, disfigured and bloodied. He saw the bones sticking out from his skin and forced his eyes to look at the rest of him. 

His right shoulder was dislocated, the skin around turning black and blue. A dark maroon bruise wrapped around the left side of his ribcage, and from the angle of his leg, Derek could tell it was broken. 

"Stiles, Stiles, wake up," Derek ordered, looking up at his face. He was cut and bruised, blood caked his left eye from his eyebrow and Derek realized there was a hole where his piercing used to be. He was also missing one of the hoops in his lip, the skin split open and oozing. 

Stiles' eyes fluttered, his breathing coming out in short wheezing pants. They opened, one of them not as open as the other. The left eye had a ring of popped blood vessels around his iris. 

"Hey, hey, you're okay, I got you," Derek stammered, grabbing Stiles' free hand and pulling at the pain there. There was so much, but Derek gritted his teeth through it. Stiles let out a breath, eyes fluttering closed again. 

"No, Stiles, wake up," Derek growled. His eyes opened again. 

"We have to go," Peter said. Derek nodded, looking back down to Stiles. 

"I'm going to pick you up," Derek said. Derek barely brushed against him and Stiles let out a shout of pain and Derek yanked his hands away. 

"Here," Lydia said, rushing in. "The crate, get the lid." She pointed to one of the ammunition crates and Malia and Scott yanked it off before rushing into the room. 

"Someone find ropes, we have to strap him down," Lydia said, moving to kneel at Stiles' head. 

"Okay," she looked at Derek, Peter, Scott and Malia. "Put the lid beside him. You guys are going to have to shift him onto the wood."

Stiles' breathing was labored, sharp and stuttery with pain, his jaw clenched and his hands shaky. He looked at Derek, giving a small nod when Derek let out a distressed sound. 

"S'okay," he managed to rasp out, nodding again. 

"Okay, Derek and Peter, put his arms on his chest," Lydia instructed. "Then I want you both to hold him under his ribs and transfer him to the wood. Malia and Scott, you two move his legs."

When Derek moved his right arm, Stiles sobbed out a broken cry. Moving him from the floor to the wood slab was just as painful, and the instant he was settled, Derek ran his hands through Stiles' hair, kissing him softly on his right cheek, where there was less damage. 

The ropes were used to tie his legs down, and his shoulders, and then they were lifting him up. 

"Someone get the car," Scott ordered. Derek was pretty sure Boyd left do to that. They made it out of the room, and headed towards the tunnel. 

Derek forced himself to keep focused on Stiles' heartbeat, his shallow breathing. 

The walk through the tunnel was difficult and Stiles cried out a couple times, and by thr time they got out into the night air. Stiles was still, unconsciousness but still breathing. 

They got him into the trunk of Boyd's 4x4. Peter and Derek stayed in the back. Lydia, Cora, Boyd and Scott in the cab. Derek trusted Malia to take care of the other hunters, and to fight off Issac and Erica if they tried to stop her. 

The drive to the hospital was full of pain for Stiles. He lifted his left hand and Derek instantly grabbed it, pulling at as much pain as he could. 

"T-take it off," Stiles rasped. Derek frowned, eyes locking on the band around his wrist. With his fingers still clasping Stiles' hand, he used his other hand to find the small iron rod, pulling it out. The cuff fell from his skin and Stiles nodded, eyes closing. 

They reached the hospital. Nurses stormed the truck, getting Stiles out and shouting medical jargon as they got the plank of wood onto a gurney and wheeled him in. 

Derek followed after them, and held back a growl when a male nurse placed a hand on his chest, stopping him from following them into the trauma center. 

"You need to wait out here," he demanded. Derek made a move to step through him, but a hand on his bicep stopped him. 

"Derek, let them do their job," Peter demanded. The male nurse left as Peter pulled Derek to the waiting room. 

Thr rest of the pack was there, including Scott. Derek shot a questioning look to Malia, who gave a small nod. The rest of the hunters were dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! We have a reunion (not the happiest but at least Stiles is alive!) And Kate finally died!


	29. Chapter 29

Stiles was in surgery. Had been for the past three hours. Derek had gone from pacing to sitting with his leg bouncing. 

Cora had taken Lydia and Malia back to the loft at the second hour, demanding Derek call the instant they heard from the surgeon. 

The police had come to find out what happened. Thankfully, Parrish was one of the deputies to come question them. He would be able to find a cover story. 

Being his mate and only family, Derek had given the hospital his information, deciding to pay for everything. And then he was forced to wait. 

Peter left on the third hour, telling Derek he was going to look after the girls. Derek stayed. Scott stayed. Neither talked. 

And then the surgeon came into the room and Derek jumped to his feet, nearly running into him in an attempt to get to him. 

"Are you his mate?" He asked. Derek nodded, folding his arms over his chest. One of the nurses had brought him a smock to wear, his shirt covered in blood.

"Yes, is he okay?"

The surgeon smiled reassuringly. "He's out of surgery now," he said. "He had a comminuted fracture in his left femur, which we were able to treat with screws and metal plates. Those will have to stay in for the rest of his life with how the bone was shattered.

"He also suffered a transverse fracture in his knee, which we set with pins and a figure-of-eight tension band. That's going to keep the muscles from pulling the bone apart during healing."

Derek nodded, trying very hard not to freak out. He wasn't human. He didn't know if what the doctor was saying was a good thing or not. Stiles would have to live with screws and metal plates in his leg. 

"He's not going to be able to walk until the leg is fully healed, which could take a couple months, and he'll need physical therapy to learn how to walk again."

Derek knew Scott was standing back, listening in, but Derek was too focused on the doctor to even worry about Scott. He wanted to see Stiles, but the doctor wasn't done, and Derek needed to know everything Kate had managed to do to him. 

"We set his right hand," the doctor said. "He had multiple fractures, but we were able to set them with wires and plates. He'll need to wear a cast to keep his hand flat and immobile while it heals.

"His right shoulder was dislocated, and we were able to set that as well, but because of it being untreated for such a long time, there could be damage to his ligaments and nerves," the doctor explained. "There was nothing we could do about his ribs, four clean breaks, there was no shifting bones so all we can do is wait for those to heal on their own."

"But he's okay?" Derek asked, not being able to stop himself. 

"He's recovering right now, and should be waking up from the anesthesia in a couple hours," the doctor nodded. Derek felt like crying. 

"When he's fully healed, he'll want to start physical therapy," the doctor continued. "Because of the fractures in his hand, the prolonged immobilization will make the fingers stiff, but starting range of motion exercises should help improve function. Even after following treatment, some patients still have difficulty with stiffness and range of motion, which could result in a limp, or difficulty gripping things."

"Can I see him?"

"Yes, let me get a nurse to take you to his room," the surgeon smiles. "He'll be pretty out of it for a while, and I'll want to keep him here for a couple days for observation, but if everything goes well, he could be released in four to six days."

Derek nodded quickly, thanking the doctor before he walked off. Derek pulled his phone out, pulling Peter's name up before typing frantically. He told Peter about the damage, keeping it short and to the point before saying he was in a recovery room. 

It took another hour before a nurse came over and escorted Derek -and Scott- to the room they had moved Stiles to. 

The instant Derek walked in he could smell stale blood, the strong scent of chemicals and the strange scent of anesthesia. He walked in to stand beside Stiles' bed, dropping into the chair there and grabbing Stiles' left hand. 

His skin was pale, lips too light. His left eyebrow was stitched closed where the ring had been, as well as his lower lip. He was still covered in bruises, but the blood had been cleaned away. 

There was an IV in the back of his left hand that Derek was careful to avoid. He was wearing a hospital gown, the shoulder untied to make room for the wires taped to his chest monitoring his heart. 

His breathing was better, still short and a little wheezy, but better. Derek could tell his ribs were bandaged, which probably helped them not to shift with every breath. 

His left leg was hidden under the blanket, and Derek was too worried to lift it up and see. So he just held Stiles' hand, running his thumb over the tattooed knuckles. He looked too vulnerable with his lips parted, eyes closed. Looked too close to death. 

Scott was standing by the back wall, hands in his pockets. Derek refused to acknowledge him, and instead focused on pulling the dull aches from Stiles. 

"They've got him on morphine," Scott said, seeing thr black veins running up his arms. "He's not in any pain right now."

Derek said nothing, just gave the smallest dip of his chin, eyes focused on Stiles. He remembered Stiles explaining he couldn't heal others, and that healing himself took too much out of the reservoir. He was too hurt to heal much. 

Derek sat with him for as long as it took for Stiles to wake up, and when he did, Derek leaned forward, squeezing his hand. Stiles blinked slowly, orienting himself before finally turning his head to Derek. 

"Hey," he croaked, sounding painful. Derek gave a weak smile, his throat tightening with emotion. 

Even through the haze of morphine and anesthesia, a knowing look crossed Stiles' face, and Derek felt the tears well in his eyes. 

"M'okay," Stiles rasped. Derek let out a distressed noise, leaning over the bed from his spot on the chair to hide his face in Stiles' neck. 

Stiles squeezed his hand, not really being able to do anything else. Derek didn't know Scott had left until he returned with a nurse. 

Derek pulled back, using his free hand to wipe at his eyes. He refused to let go of Stiles' hand as the nurse looked over Stiles' vitals and asked questions about his pain. 

Scott was still there. Derek wanted to tell him to leave. He had no right to be there. Derek had asked for his help, but that didn't mean Scott was welcomed. 

But his main focus was Stiles, and as long as Scott stayed quiet and out of the way, Derek would continue to pretend he wasn't there. 

After the nurse left, Stiles fell back asleep, fingers clasped with Derek's. He stayed on the edge of his chair, head on thr hospital bed near Stiles' hip. 

Derek texted the pack that Stiles had woken up, and that they'd be able to come by later to visit.

When Stiles woke up again, he was a lot more cognizant, which also meant he was in a bit of pain. 

"Here," Derek said, holding a styrofoam cup of water to Stiles' lips. He never let go of Stiles' hand. 

"Did you kill her?" Stiles asked when he pulled back from the straw. His left eye still had a ring of popped blood vessels around the iris, but the doctor said there would be no permanent damage. 

"They're all dead," Derek said, bringing Stiles' hand up to brush his cheek against his knuckles. Stiles gave a soft tilt of his lips at the gesture, lifting his pointer finger to brush against Derek's jaw. 

"Good," Stiles said softly, voice still sounding raw. He winced a bit, and Derek could feel the small wave of pain from their joined hands. 

Stiles let out a pain filled breathy chuckle, looking up at the ceiling. "She used a bat," he managed to say. "How ironic is that?"

"A bat?" 

"Before he found out he was a Spark," Scott spoke up, alerting Stiles to his presence. Scott looked at Stiles before turning his attention to Derek, ashamed of looking at Stiles for more than half a second. "He always carried a baseball bat around."

Stiles was frowning at him, the scent of dismal resentment just barely noticeable under the smell of morphine and hospital. Scott probably couldn't smell it from the other side of the room. 

"Why are you here?" Stiles asked. "Making sure I don't electrocute my nurse?"

He didn't try to hide the splenetic and spiteful tone of his voice. Scott had the decency to look a little shamed, but his features took on a sour look, eyebrows furrowing. 

"Thats not why I'm here," he said, voice guarded. Stiles' features sharpened, scoffed at him through a wince of pain. 

"Don't tell me it's because you care," he shot, voice not as sharp and biting as it should be. It was weak, raspy and broken up with quick breaths. "We're not friends."

There was a fraction of a second when Scott looked like a kicked puppy, but it was gone so fast Derek wondered if Stiles had caught it. If he cared enough to go easy on the true alpha, but Derek knew he wouldn't. Stiles had spent their whole friendship being manipulated and gaslit by Scott -whether intentionally or not. Stiles deserved to be as cruel towards Scott's feelings as he wanted. 

"We used to be," Scott countered. Stiles rolled his eyes, letting his head rest fully on the pillow. 

"What we had wasn't friendship, Scott," he said, sounding exhausted. "And any friendly feelings I had towards you were snuffed out when you killed my dad."

Scott opened his mouth to snap at Stiles, anger contorting his features, but Stiles shot him a menacing look. 

"Just leave, Scott," he snapped. "You have no right to be here."

Again, Scott made an attempt to talk, but Stiles yanked his hands from Derek's grasp, eyes bleeding white as he waved his hand, the hospital room door slamming open. 

"I said get out!" He snapped, a force shoving Scott back. Stiles' arm dropped, eyes returning to normal. He let out a pained noise, body tensing and Derek instantly grabbed his hand again, pulling at the pain. Derek could smell blood, and worried Stiles night have ripped the stitching in his lip. 

Scott had the good sense to leave, which both Stiles and Derek appreciated. When Stiles' body sagged into the bed, Derek leaned forward again, stuffing his nose into Stiles' neck and breathe in the comforting scent of his mate under the hospital chemicals and medicine. 

"How did you do it?" Stiles asked softly after a while. Derek looked up at him, knew what he was asking. 

"Broke her back," he said. "Then cut her throat open." Stiles nodded, squeezing Derek's hand. 

"Good," he said, closing his eyes in exhaustion. Derek settled back into his chair, letting Stiles fall back to sleep. He needed all the sleep he could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fight with Scott and Stiles! A little reunion with Stiles and Derek! How do you guys like it???


	30. Chapter 30

The week that followed, Derek found himself sleeping in the chair beside Stiles' bed. He didn't leave for more than a couple hours at a time, to shower and change his clothes. When he was gone, Cora, Peter, Malia or Lydia would stay with Stiles. 

The pack agreed they would be leaving Beacon Hills the day Stiles was released. While Stiles and Derek were in thr hospital, Cora, Malia, Lydia and Peter packed. What they couldn't fit in the Camero or the Jeep, they put in a UHaul truck. 

Lydia even agreed to stay for a week or two in Oregon until the pack found a balance with living someplace new and handling Stiles' care. 

And then Stiles was released with strict instructions to stay off the leg until fully healed, no using his right hand and no heavy lifting until his ribs were healed. The stitches could be removed in eleven weeks, and the prescription pain killers could be refilled once a month. 

Derek took over pushing Stiles in the wheelchair, the male nurse walking ahead to get the elevator. 

Cora was waiting for them at the entrance, leaning against the Camero. The Jeep and UHaul were parked on the road beside the hospital parking lot. 

"Ready?" Cora asked, grinning widely. She had the passenger door open for Stiles, the keys to the Jeep twisted around her finger. 

"Uh, who's driving my Jeep?" Stiles asked, eyes narrowing at Cora before looking to the left, where the other vehicles are waiting. 

"I am," Cora responded. 

"I'd rather drive her myself," Stiles said. 

"You can barely take a full breath," Derek reminded him. "And its a ten hour drive."

"I don't trust anyone to drive my baby but me," Stiles said, stubbornly. 

"Then I guess we stay in Beacon Hills until you're all healed," Cora said, smirking. Derek couldnt help but smirk too. Stiles was adamant about leaving as soon as possible, and his scowl at Cora was a clear indication that Stiles was caving. 

"Fine," he nearly growled. "But be careful. She grinds-"

"In second gear," Cora grinned. "I found that out on the way here." At Stiles' distressed look, she lifted a soothing hand to stop him. "I've got it, Stiles. I promise I won't ruin your Jeep."

"I let her drive the Camero," Derek tried, but Stiles just scoffed at that, making Derek grin more. 

Cora skipped across the parking lot towards the Jeep while the nurse and Derek got Stiles into the front seat of the Camero. The passenger seat was pushed back, letting Stiles keep his left leg relatively straight and his back not completely upright to help with his ribs. 

And then they were leaving, and Derek worried he was dreaming. The radio played soft music. He glanced at Stiles, who looked at him and grinned. 

"Ready to get the fuck out of this soul sucking town?" Stiles asked, grinning ruefully if not a bit painfully. Derek reached over to grab his left hand, running his thumb over Stiles' knuckles. 

"Definitely," Derek answered. 

They drove for six hours before Peter had them all pull into a motel for the night. They were about halfway through Oregon, and had close to four more hours to go. 

Derek got out of the car, jogging to the trunk and pulling out a wheelchair Peter had gotten. It was one of those easily foldable ones, so it fit easily with all of their stuff. 

He unfolded it just as Stiles opened his door, wincing a bit. "Don't do that," Derek reprimanded. Stiles raised a challenging eyebrow, wincing again as his upper half contorted to see what Derek was doing. 

"Dont tell me what to do," Stiles griped. "I'm sick of sitting."

"Well, that's all you're going to be doing for the next several months, little Spark," Peter smirked, leaning against the open door. 

Derek kept the chair in reach, and knelt down to pull Stiles' legs out, making sure to pull any pain he might cause as he rotates Stiles until his legs are out of the car. 

He stands up again and reaches under Stiles' arms, careful of the broken ribs and still healing shoulder. Stiles' breathing turns short and rough, his good hand fisting in Derek's shirt as Derek slowly gets Stiles upright. 

All of his weight is on his good leg, and he's shaking from the effort. Peter moves to the chair, bringing it closer as Derek slowly winds an arm around Stiles' hips. 

"Ah-" Stiles sucks in a breath, face in Derek's shoulder. Derek tries not to think of how much pain he's causing Stiles as he turns the two of them, and then lowers him into the chair. 

He's still in pain when he's settled, and Peter wheels him towards the hotel room. Derek grabs a small duffle bag Lydia had the good sense to pack full of Derek and Stiles' clothes, and the bag full of human things to dress and clean Stiles' incisions. 

They got one room, two king sized beds. The girls got one bed and the guys shared the other. When Derek got into the room, Peter was already getting Stiles transfered from the chair to the bed. Lydia was holding the blankets back. 

Derek set his things down on the other side of the bed, crawling onto the bed to guide Stiles into a sitting position, before helping guide his top half down while Peter gently lifted his legs. 

"This is really fucking humiliating," Stiles grunted out through clenched teeth, his body shaking with pain. 

"Not at all," Peter said, patting his good leg. "Pack takes care of pack. And everyone here knows you can still bring down the whole building if you wanted to, broken bones or no."

When Stiles was as comfortable as he could be, Derek brought the bag of bandages and ointments over, setting them beside Stiles. 

He had to change the bandages on his hand and leg. The ones on his chest could stay. He decided leg first, and hooked his fingers into the sweatpants they had gotten him into, carefully pulling them down. 

The rest of the pack stayed close, but no one said anything about Stiles being undressed in front of everyone. Derek had assumed Stiles would be the first to address it with a cock smirk and a rude comment, but all he said was a breathy "careful," when Derek got to his knee. 

When the sweats were at his ankles, Derek reached into the bag, pulling out things he had no idea how to use. 

"Uh-"

"Here, let me do it," Lydia said, moving to kneel beside Derek on the side of the bed. Derek gratefully handed the items over. "All of you guys need to watch carefully."

The pack all leaned a little closer, and even Stiles lifted his head to watch. Lydia grabbed a pair of scissors from the bag, cutting the old dressing from his knee first. 

Lydia carefully lifted the bandages and Stiles winced when it got stuck on the incision, the blood clotting against the fabric. When it was fully off, it exposed a six inch laceration pinched closed with black stitching thread. 

Lydia cleaned the area gently with a bit of water before applying a transparent yellow ointment on it. Stiles held back any pain filled noises while Lydia ran her finger lightly over the cut puckered skin. 

Then she grabbed the new bandage and wrapped his knee up, taping the end down. 

"Make sure its not too tight," Lydia said before moving to his thigh and repeating the process. 

The incision on his leg was a little longer -possibly eight inches long, starting at his hip and ending towards his mid thigh. 

Lydia had to push his boxers up to get to the whole thing, and when it was finally wrapped, she pulled the leg down over the bandage and Derek slowly got his pants back on. 

"Now the hand," she said. Stiles gave her a look. He was most upset about his hand, Derek knew. Loosing the function of his dominant hand was difficult for Stiles. 

He used his hands for his magic, he needed them both to make his potions, antitoxins and oils. He lost his ability to shift gears in his Jeep, to write. He was stuck with his weaker hand, and Derek could tell that bothered Stiles more than the possibility of living the rest of his life with a limp. 

Stiles' hand was secured to a piece of plastic. It cradled his fingers, keeping them from not moving, and his thumb. Lydia unwrapped the gauze, showing the black, blue and red skin of his hand, held together with stitches and butterfly bandaids. 

There was a laceration from just under his fingernail to his knuckle, and Derek could see where the doctor had put the bone back and stitched the back of his hand. A couple more spots where the doctor had to cut into the skin to fix the bone underneath was also stitched together. 

Derek couldnt help but liken his hand to a more grotesque version of Sally from A Nightmare Before Christmas, or Frankenstein's monster. 

But Lydia carefully cleaned it and added the ointment before wrapping his hand again, and then it was done. 

"We have to clean it once a day," Lydia said, setting the bag down by the end of the bed. "Which means at some point we're going to need more supplies."

"We can get more when we get to Hood River," Stiles said. Derek nodded, covering Stiles with the blankets. 

The rest of the back got into their respective beds, and Derek smiled a bit to himself when he saw Cora crawl into the bed beside Lydia, the two girls facing each other. He knew they were holding their hands under the covers, their foreheads almost touching. 

Malia took the side of the bed closest to the front door. Peter waited to climb into bed until Derek did, moving in to the middle before Peter laid down, back to the two of them. 

"Come here, Puppy," Stiles hummed sleepily. Derek moved a bit closer, careful of his right arm. Stiles slowly moved it so his hand was resting over his chest, out of Derek's way. 

Derek carefully draped his own arm over Stiles' stomach, fingers finding Stiles' good hand and holding it tightly. 

He hooked a leg around Stiles' rifht leg, pressing a soft kiss to Stiles' jaw. 

"Are you okay?" Derek asked softly. Stiles turned his head to look at Derek, moving forward just enough for his lips to brush softly against Derek's. 

Derek pressed in too, kissing the side of his mouth and avoiding the stitching. He's have a scar there. In his eyebrow too, as well as his leg and hand. He wished he had made Kate suffer more. Maybe dragged it out a day or so. 

"I'm okay, Puppy," Stiles whispered, pressing the side of his face into Derek's. Derek instantly reciprocated, letting out a little noise before the two of them quieted, too tired to stay awake much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Road trip! I'm working on a short story right now! I'm hoping to have it finished in a day or two and I'll be posting it here! This book is almost finished, and I'm still working on Witness Protection and The Fox and the Hound!


	31. Chapter 31

Derek woke up with a start, a loud whine ripping from his throat. Stiles woke himself up too with a jolt, a soft cry leaving his lips. 

The rest of the pack was awake too. Derek lifted up on his elbow, full attention on Stiles' panicked breathing, body trembling from fear and pain. 

"Hey, shh, Stiles, its okay," Derek hushed, collecting Stiles' face in both hands and forcing Stiles to look at him. 

The light flicked on, illuminating the room. Stiles let out distressed sounds, each panicking breath putting a strain on his ribs. 

"What-" came Cora's voice. 

"Shh," Derek cut her off, waving a hand in the air before focusing his attention back to Stiles, who was nearly sobbing. 

"Hey, you're okay, she's dead, i promise, she's dead, she won't hurt you anymore," Derek said, trying desperately to help. He's never seen Stiles like this before. Even when he first projected, he had been upset. This was different, he was going to hurt himself if Derek didn't get him calmed down. 

"I'm sorry," he gasped out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

"Its okay," Derek said, shaking his head. "Its alright. Just take a breath."

Stiles gripped Derek's shoulder with his good hand, struggling to even out his breathing. Derek placed a hand on Stiles' neck, siphoning the pain from his body as he calmed down. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," Stiles said, brown eyes flickering from Derek to the pack members behind him. 

Cora was crying, and even Lydia looked close to tears. Malia was fidgety and Peter looked solemn. 

"Its okay," Derek repeated. During his time in the hospital, Stiles had projected quite a bit about his time with Kate. No matter how many times Derek saw it, it didn't get easier to see. 

This was the first time the rest of the pack had seen what had happened, and it was out of Stiles' control. 

Peter's hand snaked around Derek's shoulder, grabbing Stiles' injured shoulder lightly. That got the rest of the back moving, and soon everyone was surrounding Stiles, holding him where they could. Being pack. 

Derek reached up to wipe Stiles' cheeks dry before kissing him softly. "Try to go to sleep," he said against Stiles' mouth. 

Stiles buried his face in Derek's neck, inhaling his scent in short breaths. After a minute, Derek nodded for the pack and they pulled back, slowly making their way back to the other bed. 

The light was turned off, and Peter retracted his hand, allowing Derek to settle into the bed beside Stiles, holding him. The soft rumbling in his chest soothed Stiles back to sleep. 

*-*

No one said anything about thr projection the next morning, and Derek could tell Stiles greatly appreciated it as they loaded into their vehicles and set out onto the road again. 

While in the Camero, Stiles dug through thr bag on his lap, grabbing thr pain medication and popping the cap. 

"Just take two," Derek said when four pills landed on Stiles' lap. Stiles raised an eyebrow, challenging Derek to do something. 

Derek reached across the console, scooping up the pills from his lap and then snatching the bottle. 

"If you're still in pain after two I'll pull it myself," Derek said, holding his hand out with two. 

"I don't think I like this," Stiles snapped, waving his hand in Derek's direction before snatching up the two pills. "I don't need to be mothered."

Derek put the other two pills back in thr bottle before sticking the bottle into his coat pocket.

"I'm not mothering you," Derek said. Stiles popped the pills into his mouth, swallowing them dry. "Pack takes care of their injured. And I'm your mate. Its hard for me to see you hurt and not be able to help."

Stiles reached his good hand over, knuckles brushing against Derek's jaw. Derek leaned into the touch, keeping his eyes on the road. 

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I don't like feeling incompetent and I'm not used to having people worrying about me."

Derek nodded, feeling Stiles' fingers curl around the back of his neck. 

"Get used to it," Derek said, sparing a glance at Stiles. The Spark just chuckled softly, continuing his soft caressing movements with his fingers while Derek drove. 

The last three hours of the trip seemed like the longest, and Derek was close to pulling off to the side of the road just to run off some energy. Then they passed the city welcome sign and he felt a grin tugging at his mouth. 

"We're here?" Stiles asked, looking out the window with his own grin, taking in the buildings and Mount Hood in the back drop. 

"Finally," Derek said on a breath. They were officially never going back to Beacon Hills. Crossing the city boarder seemed to cement that into both their minds, and the air in the Camero turned electric when Stiles' grin widened. 

Derek couldnt help but piggyback off of his emotions, pressing down on the gas a little. The UHaul was leading the way, followed by Derek and Stiles, and brought up by Cora and Lydia in Stiles' jeep. 

They passed through town, and all Derek could think of was 'this is nothing like Beacon Hills' in the best possible way. There was no abandoned warehouse district. No graffiti on the brick buildings. No supernatural creatures running a muck. And no oppressive air making it hard for Derek to take a deep breath. 

The air seemed cleaner here, lighter. He rolled down the windows and inhaled until his chest hurt before breathing out with a grin. It felt cleansing almost. 

He turned to look at Stiles. His eyes were closed, head tilted towards the open window, a small smile toying at his lips. And even if he looked like he got the shit beat out of him, he looked refreshed, relaxed. 

They passed town, driving down a winding dirt road towards Mount Hood, and the air just seemed to get better. Without the scents of fast food and people, the air out here was like jumping butt naked into a frozen lake. Filled with pine needles and sap, grass, leaves, animals, campfires and the distinct smell of lumber from the construction crew. 

The houses were hidden at the base of Mount Hood, far away from the hiking paths and tourist hot spots. It was quite a ways from civilization. The three houses sat nestled in the trees. 

Derek was pleased when he realized Peter had made sure most of the trees in the area stayed. 

Each were far enough apart that none of them could hear each other through the walls but close enough that a shout could grab their attention. 

They all came to a stop in front of the houses. The dirt road had been added by the construction, and each house even had a little dirt driveway for their cars. 

Derek got out, grabbing Stiles' wheelchair on the way around the car and then helping him out. It was just as painful as before, even as Derek drained as much pain as he could. 

When he was secured in the chair, Derek stood behind him, wheeling him to the UHaul truck. 

"The last house is for you two," Peter said, looking proud and happy as he jumped out of the passenger seat. 

The last house was squat cabin built with square logs and tan chinking in between. The side had a stone chimney, the roof set in an A-frame. There was a low porch with a roof over top. From where Derek was standing, he could tell there was a back porch as well. 

The house in the middle was made with darker and round logs, pressed tightly together with a brick chimney. The roof jutted out a couple feet from the house for the small porch in front of the door. 

Peter had claimed that for himself and Malia, leaving the last house for Cora -and hopefully soon, Lydia. 

It was the most modern of the three cabins with yellow wood siding and a porch that wrapped around half and hidden by a half wall. The roof was tin and green. All three houses were one story, but that didn't bother anyone. 

Derek left Stiles to help unload the truck. There wasn't much furniture that they took with them -since Derek broke most of it- but Peter had gotten the cabins all furnished, so it was mostly boxes. 

Since they were leaving Beacon Hills permanently, they cleaned out the two vaults they owned. Peter was already in the middle of building a new vault on the side of the mountain behind their little village of three, so the boxes labeled 'vault stuff' was being put in Peter's cabin. 

Derek was greatful Lydia had stayed to help pack. She'd labeled the boxes, so they knew which boxes had what. He lifted a box that said 'Stiles' stuff' and jumped off the truck to walk the short distance to his and Stiles' new home. 

This went on for about twenty minutes before Stiles got huffy, grumbling and tapping the fingers of his good hand against the arm rest. 

"I can help, you know," he snapped in irritation. 

"You gonna get out of that chair and walk these boxes inside?" Malia countered. 

"No," Stiles griped. "But have you all forgotten I can move things with my mind?"

"You shouldn't overwork yourself while you're healing," Derek commented softly, walking over to place a kiss on his lips, which were pouting in annoyance. 

"I'm not gonna overwork myself," Stiles said with a roll of his eyes. As if to prove it, his eyes went white and he lifted his hand. 

Peter had to jump out of the way to avoid being run over by the wall of boxes moving from the back of the truck. Lydia giggled when he nearly tripped out of the truck in his haste. 

Stiles set the boxes on the ground in front of the middle house before his eyes went back to their honey brown. Derek looked over him for thr tell-tale sign of pain, but Stiles just raised an eyebrow, smirk toying at his lips. 

They separated the boxes into three piles. Cora didn't have many boxes since a lot of her things were at her apartment near her school. 

"I'll get the boxes, you get me," Stiles said, eyes going white. Derek nodded, wheeling Stiles towards their cabin while Stiles had the boxes moving towards the open door. 

He set the boxes in the living room before Derek got them to thr front porch. The ledge was only four inches from the ground, so it was easy to get the wheelchair on before wheeling him inside. 

The inside was sparcely decorated. The living room was small to their left. The fire place was framed by bookshelves, a small flat screen over the mantal. In front of the fireplace was a cushioned coffee table. Two chairs sat to one wall and a couch to the other, the fabrics all earthy tones to match the wooden and stone interior. 

There was a basket of firewood beside the couch. To the right was a kitchen. Derek noticed rhe white farm sink right away, surrounded by dark wood cupboards and cabinets. There wasn't a dish washer. A small stove sat in the corner and oposite the kitchen counter was a small table that sat four comfortably, a fridge pressed into the other corner. 

Further into the back of the house was a small five foot hallway that lead directly to the back door. 

A door to the right lead to a master bedroom with a queen sized bed. It faced a large window, the scenery green. 

Each side of the bed had a nightstand and small lamp, and further in was a bathroom. 

The door on the other side of the hall was a smaller room with a full size bed and a small space heater. The bathroom in that room was small, but had a shower. 

Derek moved the two of them back to the living room and helped transfer Stiles to the couch, dropping to his knees next to a box and flipping rhr lid open. 

He smirked up at Stiles, who was laying back against the couch, the scent of utter happiness filling his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I posted earlier today but I decided to post twice today. Hope you guys like it 😂😂


	32. Chapter 32

Stiles healed pretty quickly. Within a month his bones had fully mended. He didn't need thr brace for his hand, and had started doing exercises to strengthen the muscles. 

It took a month before Derek felt comfortable doing anything intimate with Stiles for fear of hurting him -much to Stiles' complaint. 

To distract himself, Derek helped Peter with the vault, and helped Cora build a chicken coop. Lydia had left a couple weeks ago, and Cora was going to head back to school in a couple weeks as well. 

Malia had roped them into getting chickens, and was pestering them into a goat, but that was a lot harder to agree to. 

Stiles was a lot more independent than Derek thought, with his injuries. If he was stuck inside, he'd teleport to wherever Peter and Derek were, and if he needed anything, he used magic. 

Life was looking really good. The weather was changing, turning crisper and changing the leaves with it. It would be Stiles' first time living in the snow. 

Derek and Peter worked for hours a day, blowing chunks of rock from the new vault, chipping away at the corners until it resembled the shape of a room. 

The chicken coop was set next to a plot of land Malia wanted to use for a garden come spring next year. It was a twelve by twelve coop made with logs from fallen trees and chicken wire. 

Derek had spent a bit of time building thr actual coop, with enough room for six cubbies and a little ramp to get in and out. 

Stiles had worked tirelessly to unpack their things, and Derek couldn't help but smile every time he opened the cupboards to see Stiles' Star Wars coffee mug and pink floral bowls mixed with Derek's dark green set. 

Their silverware was mixed as well, which Derek didn't mind at all. With the cabin being small, they didn't have his and his closets, and there wasn't much room for two dressers, so their clothes were mixed together too. 

Stiles left his clothes on the floor on his side of the bed. He left his tooth brush leaning over the sink instead of in the holder Derek had brought from thr loft. 

His medicine stayed on the counter instead of in the medicine cabinet. But Derek didn't care. 

The spare bedroom closet had been taken over by Stiles' work, and the two had turned the spare into a catch all room for anything they couldn't really find a place for yet. 

Stiles' sci-fi, fantasy and rom-com movies had been shuffled with Derek's action and documentaries on the shelf below the bookshelf -which now had a mix of Derek's books and Stiles' -a mix of lore, mythology and magic with fiction and comics. 

Stiles was even talking about stringing white twine across the ceiling in thr kitchen for his herbs when the garden was up and running. 

The pack rotated every night on which house they stayed at for dinner, and Derek couldn't contain his happiness and utter contentment at the feeling of pack and love and home that seemed to follow him wherever he went. 

Stiles still had a hard time though. He had to use his left hand when eating because his fingers couldn't seem to clasp the silverware without shaking. 

He couldn't walk either. It wasn't like he'd need to learn how to again. The limp was so bad that when Stiles was able to move from the wheelchair to the bed on his own, he had to use Derek to make sure he didn't fall. 

And the two of them worked daily on his exercises. Derek helped with bending at his knee, then lifting at his hip for two reps of ten every morning and every evening. 

During the day, Stiles tried walking short distances, but never without one of the pack there to hold his arm. 

Derek was even helping with his hand exercises -having Stiles grab light objects, squeeze foam balls and stretch out the fingers. 

It was a painful process, and it didn't always look like there was any progress, but Stiles was working on it, and with his leg and hand fully healed now, it was just a matter of time before he was back to a semi-normal function. 

To Derek's surprise, Cora took to the lifestyle change rather quickly. She was writing out ideas about building green houses, pens for animals they could keep, even a smoke house for any game they caught. 

Malia was everywhere. Sometimes she worked with Peter and Derek on the vault, sometimes she worked with Cora on perfecting thr coop so it was ready for spring. Other times she was with Stiles, either inside the cabin or sitting out in the grass, in a spot where the sun shone through the trees. 

Right now, Stiles was sitting at the table across from Derek, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he forced his fingers to curl around the empty plastic cup Derek had pulled from the cupboard. 

Light things were easier for Stiles to hold onto and lift, but the instant there was any weight to it, Stiles' hand would give up and he'd drop it. It frustrated Stiles to no end, and on some occasions, Derek had to take him outside to calm down. 

He lifted the cup off the table before setting it back down and moving to the second cup, an inch of water at the bottom. Derek watched his hand shake as he tried to lift it off the table. He could do it, but his fingers kept slipping. 

The goal was to pour the inch of water from the cup into the empty cup without spilling the water. 

It took Stiles a couple tries and Derek many trips to the sink to refill thr glass. The table had a towel over it to keep the water from ruining the wood. 

And then Stiles got the water into the cup and he dropped the now empty cup to the table with a victorious yelp. Derek grinned and Stiles shoved the chair back, signaling he was done for now. 

Derek stood up to help Stiles to his feet. Once Stiles was upright, he leaned forward, capturing Derek's lips with his own. Derek instantly kissed back, curling his arm around his waist to bring him in closer. 

Stiles pulled back, looking at Derek with need. "Lets go to bed," he breathed, mouthing at Derek's jaw. 

"Its the middle of the day," Derek said unnecessarily. Stiles' left hand moved between them to run his long spider leg fingers over Derek's crotch, pulling a shudder from the werewolf. 

"I'll let you top," Stiles said, eyebrows raised and a smirk flitting across his mouth as he pulled back again. The stitches had come out a couple weeks ago, the scars on his lip and eyebrow still a little pink. 

Derek's arm tightened around Stiles, chewing on his lip. Stiles popped the button of Derek's jeans, sliding the zipper down before slipping his hand in. Derek closed his eyes at the feeling of long fingers brushing against him through the boxers. 

"Come on, Puppy," Stiles purred, leaning forward so his breath fanned across Derek's mouth, noses brushing against each other. "I'm all healed, and I'm so fucking horny."

That had a noise pulling itself out of Derek's throat, his mouth going dry and his cock twitching in his boxers. Stiles' hand cupped his hardening length through the fabric, and Derek felt his resolve crumbling. 

And then before Derek could even blink, they were in the bedroom, and Stiles was pushing at Derek's shoulders until he fell back into the bed. 

Stiles crawled up with Derek's help until he was straddling Derek's hips. Derek's hands moved to the hem of his shirt, lifting it up. Stiles lifted his arms, letting Derek pull it off before Derek's shirt was yanked over his head. 

"Pants off. Now," Stiles demanded, shifting off Derek and landing on his back beside him. He was already fumbling with his own jeans, yanking both his jeans and boxers down and kicking them off. His left leg had a bit of trouble getting thr clothes off but he managed just as Derek was kicking his own off. 

Derek rolled over, landing on top of Stiles and kissing him hard, teeth clanking against his lip ring. He pulled away, getting up on his knees and grabbing Stiles by the hips and forcing him to roll onto his stomach. 

"Okay?" Derek asked, hands gripping his ass. 

"Yeah," Stiles breathed. "Yeah, good."

Derek bent forward, spreading Stiles' cheeks before mouthing at him. Stiles let out a moan, dropping his face into the blankets as Derek's tongue lapped at his hole. 

Stiles' moans and gasps were muffled by the blanket as Derek pushed a finger in to the first knuckle, tongue lapping at the ring of muscle greedily trying to take in more. 

Stiles rotated his hips, pushing back into Derek and thrusting forward into the mattress. "More."

Derek pushed in further, brushing the tip of his finger against Stiles' prostate. Stiles keened, hips stuttering and hands gripping the blankets by his head. 

Derek continued licking, pushing a second and then a third finger when Stiles was ready. 

Derek's own cock was hard and red with lack of attention. He wondered if he'd be able to knot, or if he could only do that during heat. 

"Need you inside," Stiles grunted, lifting his hips. "Now."

Derek curled his fingers inside, pulling out a pornographic moan from Stiles, who managed to get his knees under his hips. Derek grabbed his leg ankle, yanking until Stiles was back on his stomach, not wanting Stiles to hurt himself so soon after the bones healed. 

"If you don't fuck me I'm going to-" Stiles moaned again when Derek pressed his fingers in further. "Fuck, Puppy. Get inside me or I'm switching."

Derek smirked, leaning forward to kiss Stiles' shoulder blades. He pulled his fingers out, watching as the muscles tightened around nothing before he moved between Stiles' thighs, forcing them to spread apart. 

He put his hands on either side of Stiles' torso, lining himself up before slowly pushing in. 

Stiles' grip on the sheets tightened as he groaned, taking him in easily until hips met ass. Derek stilled, checking over Stiles, nosing at his neck before he started thrusting into him. 

It didn't take long for the speed to pick up, Derek thrusting into Stiles. The little punched out breaths fueling Derek to hit harder, until Stiles was moaning long and loud, punctuated with every thrust forward. 

Derek felt the knot before he saw the slow inflation, his hips stuttering. 

"Oh," he grunted, readjusting so he was on his elbows, forehead pressed into the space between Stiles' shoulderblades. 

It was slow, and it took a few more thrusts before Stiles felt it too, his body tensing. "Fuck, yes!"

Derek let out a low rumble deep in his chest, continuing to thrust in, feeling the knot getting bigger. He had to push a little harder to get it past Stiles' rim, and then it was getting too big to pull out without effort. 

He thrusted back in one last time, locking the two in place with a growled moan, pinching his eyes shut as the orgasm ripped from him. Stiles groaned too, and Derek curled his arms under him before rolling over so Stiles was on top of him. 

He was still cumming deep inside Stiles when Derek took his pierced cock in hand and began fisting it. 

"F-fuck-" Stiles yelped, body wriggling on Derek. His head was over Derek's shoulder, arms reaching for something to grab onto. His right hand shakily wound in his hair, grip loose while his left grabbed Derek's wrist. 

Derek shoved his hips up into Stiles as he continued his fast paced yanks. Stiles got louder the closer to orgasm he got. He rolled back into Derek, the small movements pulling more cum from Derek. 

And then Stiles came on a shout, chest raising into the air. Derek milked him through the orgasm, continuing his small thrusts in until Stiles was trembling above him, mouth open and breathing labored. Derek took the corner of the blanket and cleaned up Stiles' stomach, where his cum was beginning to cool. 

He pushed a bit at Stiles' shoulder until Stiles shifted, turning his head so Derek could kiss him. Stiles hummed, licking inside Derek's mouth. 

"We should've gotten stuff to do while we wait," Stiles hummed, smirking a bit. Derek felt his face heat up, remembering the last time they had been locked together. Then, it was painful after cumming so often. Now though, Derek felt pleasure tingling down his spine at the small tug when Stiles shifted. 

"We could take a nap," he suggested. Stiles rolled his eyes, grinning before his eyes went white. Derek inhaled, ready to stop him, but then he was landing on the couch, a breath of air punched from his lungs. 

"We definitely could've done that the last time," Stiles said smugly. Derek grunted, burying his face in Stiles' neck, biting down with human teeth and pulling a shiver from Stiles. 

When he let go, he reached the small throw blanket on the back of the couch, draping it over the both of them while Stiles wriggled to reach the remote. Another wave of an orgasm had Derek moaning, head falling back onto the arm rest. 

"Fuck, your little noises," Stiles whined, turning the TV on. He turned his head to kiss at Derek's jaw, curling a hand around the side of his neck. "Next time its my turn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming to a close! I think i can wrap up the book in 35 chapters!! How do you like it??


	33. Chapter 33

In the next following months, the leaves fell and Derek woke up to Stiles curled into his side. He'd lived in Michigan for a time after the fire, so he was used to the colder temperature -not to mention he was a werewolf, but Stiles had been born and raised in warmer climates. 

Stiles was walking on his own by the first snow, the limp still very noticeable. 

Stiles' bones ached with the cold, and Derek helped as best he could by keeping the cabin warm at all times, and curling against him while they slept. 

Cora went back to school, and Lydia had left too. Peter was not a fan of the cold and stuck to reading inside. Malia usually forced Stiles outside with her, and Derek was always close by. 

Thanksgiving was made a big deal. They ate at Peter and Malia's house. Cora and Lydia came. They were getting closer -holding hands and sharing soft secret kisses. 

Christmas was even better. He'd never seen Stiles so- so happy. Full of family and contentment. Stiles barely let his limp or the stiffness in his fingers stop him from doing things. He'd even started filling their living room and kitchen with plants. 

Derek didn't mind one bit, especially when Stiles told him how happy the plants were. He still couldn't get over how in touch with them Stiles was, and often caught Stiles cooing to the small Basil plant on the windowsill over the kitchen sink. 

There were no plants in the bedroom. "We're negative sleepers, Puppy," Stiles had said one night when Derek had brought it up, the two curled together, naked and swaddled in each other under the safety of the blankets. "Its better for them not to be in here."

And oddly, Derek understood. Because they both still had nightmares quite frequently. On top of the bad memories that plagued Stiles from years of trauma, the abduction and beating had added to it. 

Projecting was a normal occurrence to Derek now. It gave him a window into what Stiles felt, what he went through without Stiles actually saying anything. 

And Derek still had nightmares about the fire. They weren't frequent, but they happened enough that Stiles had a routine for him when he woke up in a cold sweat. 

Cora and Lydia returned for Christmas. This time, with talks of Lydia finding a job here in Hood River. 

The exchange of presents hadnt been in Derek's -or Stiles'- lives for a very long time. Everyone got everyone a present. Each person had six presents wrapped in varying degrees of perfection. 

Derek watched everyone opening their presents with a smile on his face and a warmth to his heart that he hadn't felt since his family had been together. 

Derek got Stiles a kit for herbal gardening indoors and a few fifty packs of little glass vials with the corks. Stiles had kissed him hard in thanks. 

Stiles got Derek a coffee mug with a picture of a Germain shepherd on the front, the words 'everything tastes better with dog hair in it' written in curly letters. 

Lydia got a book Derek didn't even try to pretend to understand. Peter got a scarf and hat. Cora got a vintage lamp for her room. Malia got a book on raising chickens. 

After opening presents, they dressed for cold weather to spend a bit outside. Derek grabbed Stiles by the strings of his winter hat, pulled him in and kissed him. He looked like a marshmallow in his puffy winter coat, wrapped in a scarf with his hat and gloves. 

Lydia was similarly dressed for the cold weather. Peter even put on the scarf and hat he got. Outside, Cora and Malia walked with Stiles to the chicken coop, checking on it to make sure it was ready for their critters come spring. 

Peter and Derek leaned against the porch railing. Lydia sat on the top step, all three watching Cora and Malia shove each other into the snow banks, Stiles bursting out int a fit of laughter that had him bending forward. 

Derek couldnt help the swell in his chest at that sound. He didn't even try to hide the grin when Malia growled and charged at Stiles. 

He was shoved into the snow bank as well, disappearing in a plume of snow with a yelp. 

"I missed this," Lydia said, breaking the silence of the porch. Derek glanced down at her from his stance and she smiles, nodding at Stiles, who was being pulled out of the snow by Cora and Malia. 

"How he was before," she said. "Before his dad and Donovan and Scott. He used to act like this. I missed it."

Derek looked back at Stiles, who was no longer smiling, but grumbling and shivering as Cora and Malia laughed, brushing snow off him. 

They brought Stiles back to the porch, and Stiles curled into Derek's chest for warmth, shivering and cursing the werewolves for their ability to retain body heat. 

Derek just tucked himself into Stiles back, whining softly into his skin and kissing the freezing expanse of exposed flesh on his jaw. 

They went inside after that for hot chocolate and movies under thick blankets. 

Christmas dinner was nothing big. Derek didn't mind. They had mashed potatoes and gravy with green bean casserole and turkey with stuffing. Everything either came in a box of came frozen. 

Next year they'd do it right. Stiles and Derek stayed up late into the night, cuddled on the couch with hot chocolate. 

The others had all gone back to their own houses an hour before, and Derek was more than content to curl under Stiles' arm and scent him. 

"I have another present for you, Puppy," Stiles said, breaking the silence. Derek frowned a bit in confusion, and Stiles grinned before standing up and pulling Derek to his feet too. 

They went to the bedroom, and Stiles pushed Derek to the bed, then reached under it and pulled out a box wrapped messily in red wrapping paper. 

Derek opened it, sliced a clawed finger through tape and opened the box. It was about half a foot long and pretty slender. 

Derek looked up at Stiles with a raised eyebrow, but Stiles only smirked, tongue darting out to play with his only lip piercing. He had decided not to get re-pierced. 

Derek turned his attention back to the box, flipped the lid open and pulled the tissue paper out before peering inside. His cheeks tinged bring pink, and he looked up to see Stiles' smirk had grown. 

"You got me a toy?" Derek asked, hesitantly reaching in and pulling the flesh colored dildo out. Only it looked wrong. There was a pump hanging from the base. Stiles moved closer, pushing the box to the floor before straddling Derek's lap and taking the toy from his hand. 

"Not just any toy, Puppy," Stiles said, leaning forward and kissing Derek. He held the toy between them and grabbed the pump, giving it a couple squeezes. 

Derek's eyes widened and his breath hitched in his throat when he noticed the swell growing at the base. It was a knot. 

Stiles leaned in close, lips brushing against Derek's ear, chests pressed close. "I can't knot you myself," he whispered huskily. "And it feels so good, Puppy. Wanted you to feel it too."

Derek swallows thickly, the bulge in his sweats growing hot and heavy. Stiles kissed his ear before looking at him, honey whiskey brown eyes looking at him curiously and with a lust so thick Derek could barely see the brown of his irises. 

"Would you want to try it?"

Derek nodded, breath coming out in short pants. "Yes," he whined. "Yeah, please."

Stiles smiled, huffing a breathy laugh before latching onto Derek's jaw with his mouth, toy dropping onto the bed beside them. 

They pulled at each other's shirts until they were discarded on the floor. Pants were next to go, and Derek laughed when he pulled at Stiles' pants to find a second layer of long johns. 

"Its winter and I'm cold," Stiles grunted, pushing himself forward and yanking both the long johns and his boxers down his thighs. 

His hands were cold on Derek's skin and he shivered as those tattooed fingers slipped into the waistband of his boxers, tickling at the hairs just under. 

"Lay down."

Derek dropped to his back, lifting his hips to let Stiles tug his boxers down. Derek could see the faint scaring on his right hand, cutting through the dark tattoos there. 

He threw the boxers somewhere behind him and Derek let his legs fall open, knees bent. Stiles took in his fill with a smirk before diving forward. He sucked Derek down with a noisy mouth and Derek's eyes flashed on a moan. 

Stiles worked a two fingers inside -Derek still loose from earlier romping in the sheets- continuing to suck Derek's cock clear down to the base. 

Stiles swallowed around him, working the tip down his throat and Derek forced his hips still, neither one of them breathing until Stiles pulled back. 

"Hands and knees, Puppy," Stiles breathed, lips wet with spit. Derek rolled over, drawing his knees up under his hips, planting his toes on the bed. 

He dropped to his elbows, head dipping between his shoulders. Stiles' hands had warmed a little, splayed over each of Derek's cheeks, squeezing them and spreading them further apart. 

Derek whined pitifully, letting his head fall onto the pillow as Stiles licked into him. 

His fingers pulled Derek open and Derek whined out at the stretch, feeling cold air hit him before a swipe of tongue took the chill away. 

"I'm ready," Derek panted, dropping from his elbows to his chest, opening himself further for Stiles, knees parting a little further. "Please, Stiles."

Stiles extracted himself from Derek, planting a kiss to his fluttering hole before leaning over to the bedside table. 

A bottle of lube is popped open and squirted onto the tip of the dildo. Derek watched as it dripped down the shaft, his mouth going dry when Stiles' fingers curled around it, pumping the dildo to spread the lube around. 

Derek dropped his head back into the pillow, inhaling the smell of sex and them, feeling Stiles lube his hole before slowly pushing the toy inside. 

Derek mewled. It was thicker than Stiles was, a bit shorter. He curled his arms around the pillow under his chest, mouth open. 

"So good, Puppy," Stiles praised, beginning to pump in and out of Derek. Derek rocked back into Stiles' hands, soft noises muffled by the pillow in his mouth. 

His breath came more labored when he heard Stiles using the pump, dug claws into the pillow and breaking through to the cotton inside. 

He felt it grow with each pass through his rim until it was big enough to catch. Derek's breath hitched, Stiles continuing to fuck the toy in and out of Derek while pumping the knot bigger and bigger until it locked behind the wall of muscle. 

Derek nearly howled, knees spreading further apart. It felt incredible. Stiles continued a wordless murmur of affection, tugging softly on the toy before his fingers wrapped around Derek's cock. 

He came too quickly, spilling onto the mattress in hot spurts that had him trembling. Stiles' fingers massaged at Derek's thighs, his ass, the small of his back, and Derek went pliant in his hold. 

Another tug on the toy and Stiles had Derek roll over onto his back, which pushed the toy deeper into him. 

Stiles crawled up his body, the tip of his dick trailing from Derek's knee to his stomach before Stiles' tongue was in Derek's mouth. 

They kissed and Derek reached for Stiles' cock, stroking him softly. Stiles hummed into his mouth, a hand reaching back between both their spread legs until tattooed fingers were between Derek's cheeks, moving the dildo in and out in small thrusts that had Derek's eyes rolling up. 

And then the knot was getting bigger, and Derek keened, arching his back and letting out a growling moan. 

"Does that feel good?" Stiles asked knowingly. Derek nodded, and Stiles' hand returned to the bed near Derek's shoulder, holding himself up. 

Derek went back to work on getting Stiles off while Stiles kissed at his chin, moving down his jaw to his ear, then down the side of his neck. He bit into skin and Derek felt his dick twitch on his stomach. 

When Stiles came it was on a loud shout, face pressing into Derek's neck, back arching and body shuddering. He painted Derek's stomach, the two breathing heavy. 

Stiles pulled his head out from Derek's neck, a lazy smirk on his lips. "So you like your present?" Stiles asked, nipping at Derek's lower lip. 

"Yeah," Derek breathed, shifting his hips to feel the knot stretching him open. "Feels so good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get a Thanksgiving/Christmas chapter today! Its freezing where I am and I know its not Halloween yet but I don't think the pack really celebrates that particular holiday. At least not yet anyway! 
> 
> But yeah, I'm totally shoving my complaints about the cold onto Stiles right now because damn its fucking cold! 
> 
> Just a couple more chapters to go and then we'll be done! Next chapter is gonna be when its warmer out because honestly I want to go back to spring and although I'm suffering that doesn't mean Stiles has to. 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think!


	34. Chapter 34

Winter couldnt end soon enough for Stiles. Derek could tell the cold weather put an ache to his bones. It was spring now, and although it was still cold in the mornings and at night, the sun warmed the rest of the day. 

Lydia moved in the first week of spring, and Cora had excitedly leapt into Lydia's arms when she came back for spring break to see all of the red-head's things unpacked with hers. 

Malia finally got her chickens. Six in total, all female -Peter wasn't ready for the shrill cry of a rooster all hours of the night. 

Stiles helped with them. He did the feeding, and Malia collected eggs. Peter and Derek began looking for collectors and supernatural gurus to fill their vault. It was a steady growth that started just after New Years. 

The clean air was doing good for the pack. Everyone seemed to forget all about Beacon Hills. Malia never had to deal with the shit everyone else did. 

Peter hid it well, but Derek knew he had a hard time being in Beacon Hills, especially after Kate burned his family alive. Derek lost his parents, his sister and cousins. Peter lost his mate and child. 

Derek thinks its easier with Malia. She was conceived before Peter met his mate, and had no connection to his past family. 

Derek and Cora on the other hand, were a constant reminder to Peter -as well as each other- of the pack they've lost. 

And then there was Stiles, who's life was filled with just as much loss and pain as Derek's. Loosing his mother at the young age of ten, then his dad. He was forced to make hard decisions for the sake of a pack that didn't work, getting blood on his hands and loosing more and more of himself as he went. 

And then he lost his pack, his best friend. He lost Lydia in a way too, when she left Beacon Hills, but Derek knows he doesn't fault her for it. 

But now, as Derek watches Stiles jump away from an angry chicken, laughing wildly and shouting, that the fresh air has done the Spark some good too. 

With all the eggs collected in Malia's shirt, the two leave the coop, and Stiles breaks off to limp his way to Derek, who's on his knees, dirt covering his hands and arms as he helps Cora and Lydia plant the garden. 

Stiles grins, standing beside him and running fingers through his hair. Derek looks up at him and smiles. Stiles leans down and kisses him before dropping to his knees too. 

He digs his hands into the soil, eyes shifting to a white shade, the petrichor and ozone scent of Stiles' magic filling the air with a static charge, and he smiles, turning pupilless eyes to Derek. 

"They like it," he said. Derek grinned back. He felt proud that the little seeds were happy, which he's never thought he'd ever think about. It made him happy though, all the same. 

Stiles blinked his eyes back to that rich honey whiskey color and pulled his fingers from the earth. 

Lydia and Cora grinned too, dirt on their cheeks and noses from a play fight earlier. Stiles gets to his feet, using Derek's shoulder to help, and when he was completely up, he leaned down to kiss Derek again before heading for the vault where Peter was working. 

Derek returned to the gardening. They had carrots, cucumber, tomatoes, potatoes, green beans and onions to plant. Cora and Malia wanted the garden to be bigger, wanted squash and corn, but that would be next year, or possibly many years down the line. 

Derek listened to the sound of the wind rustling the trees, the gentle lull of Lydia and Cora talking across from him, the chickens clucking lazily. He took a moment to feel the earth under his fingers and covering his skin. The damp soil under his knees soaking through his jeans and the sun warming his back. 

He smiled. He hadn't felt like this in so long, he'd forgotten what it felt like to have pack, to feel safe, be free. 

It was a few days later, when Lydia and Cora were collecting eggs in the coop when the pack realized for the first time that Stiles' Spark had grown. 

It had started with the plants in the living room and kitchen. How they grew fast, seemed to breath with Stiles and move when he did. 

How the forest around their pack homes seemed to fill with life, inhale deeply. The world was alive wherever Stiles touched, and it seemed like Stiles could do more than just hear the earth around him. 

Derek should've noticed the way he could manipulate the plants and how they grew. The garden was already sprouting, which shouldn't have happened for at least another week. 

They were all outside, Stiles laying on the grass by Derek, tattooed fingers playing with the hairs on Derek's shins. 

Lydia let out a surprised yelp, alerting everyone. Stiles sat up, looking over to see Cora laughing. Lydia held her finger to her chest, glaring at a chicken. 

The pack moved to her to see what all the fuss was. A chicken had pecked her when she tried to reach under it for an egg. It drew blood. 

Stiles took her hand to look it over, being the only other human in the pack. Derek watched as Stiles turned her finger this way and that, before his eyes lost their color, the air spiking with magic, and he wiped the blood from her finger with the pad of his thumb. 

Derek's eyes widened when the unbroken skin was all that was left. Stiles was surprised too, eyes blinking back to color with a gasp. 

"Shit!" He yelped, looking over her finger again. "I did that?!"

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist, burying his nose in Stiles' neck, inhaling the shock and awe of his scent. 

"Shit!" He continued, heartbeat running a mile a second. "Jesus Christ, I did that!"

And then he was laughing, and everyone else was too, huddled together. It didn't take long for Stiles to want to try again. Hurting Lydia was out of the question, so Peter agreed to knick Derek in the arm. 

The cut of an alpha burned much like wolfsbane. He grimaced but held his arm out to Stiles, who healed it with a swipe of his fingers. And Stiles had grinned, bounced on his heels and Derek wondered if his chest could explode with how happy he looked and smelled. 

Derek collected him in his arms, squeezing him just tight enough to make Stiles grunt, but he wiggled in Derek's hold and hugged him as tightly as he could back. 

"I couldn't do that before!" Stiles said, pulling back. The rest of the pack were moved in close, everyone touching everyone and grinning like mad. 

"You can't heal in the same environment that broke you," came Peter's words, and Derek couldn't help but hug onto everyone he could tightly, Stiles pressed into his chest. 

He thinks he mightve seen Stiles with tears in his eyes. Sees the barely there wobble of his lower lip as he grins and buries his face in Derek's chest. 

Later that night, when Stiles is straddling Derek, hands pinning Derek's wrists to the bed by his head, kissing him hard, he still smells like ozone and excitement. 

Stiles pulls his face from Derek's neck, looking down at the werewolf in the dimly lit room. Derek looks up at him, taking in his pale skin, the tattoo on his neck, the soft white scars running across the moons on his chest. The slope and twist of tattooes on his arms, the piercings in his lip and septum. 

"I-" Stiles starts, licking his kiss swollen lips. "I love you, Der."

His heart beat is frantic, his tattooed fingers gripping Derek's wrists tightly. Derek can't help but grin up at him, lifting his head up enough to run a nose across Stiles' jaw. 

"That sounded painful," Derek said lowly, chuckling a bit into his neck. He felt a bit of tension leave Stiles' body on a shaky exhale. Stiles hadn't said those three words in nearly a decade. 

"Can I say it back?" Derek asked, letting his head fall back onto the bed. All he wanted to do was curl his arms around Stiles and pull him close, bury himself under Stiles' skin and never let go. 

He knew Stiles loved him, it was shown through his actions, in the way he called Derek Puppy, how he looked at Derek, smiled at him, let his fingers dance across the expanse of his skin. But to hear him say it had Derek's heart flipping backwards in his chest. 

Stiles stilled above him, tucked his lip between his teeth and nodded. Derek's grin softened, he didn't pull his arms out from under Stiles' hands, just laid there under him, cataloging everything about this moment, because it was the most intimate moment Derek's ever had. 

"I love you," he says, pushing as much meaning into those three words as he can. They're deep and soft in the air between them, and Stiles' lips slowly turn up, and soon he's grinning down at Derek. 

"You do?" He asked. Derek nodded and Stiles dropped onto his chest, fingers curling into Derek's hair as he kissed him sinfully. Derek's arms curled over Stiles, pulling him in closer, tilting his head, deepening the kiss, rutting up against Stiles and moaning softly when Stiles matched with a roll of his hips. 

That night they had the best sex Derek thinks they've ever had. Slow and gentle. Derek had never felt anything like it when Stiles didn't fuck him, but made love to him. 

It was cheezy, and it even made Derek mentally gag, but it was wonderful. And when they were finished, Derek rolled them over and started up again, knotting Stiles and moaning out his love for the Spark until Stiles was nothing but a pliant mess of babbling, the both of them covered in each other's cum and sweat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finally said I love you!!! And we got chickens and a little power boost!
> 
> One more chapter to go and then the book is finished! What do you guys think???


	35. Chapter 35

Derek's heat hit during the first month of summer. Stiles had been preparing for it, had marked it on the calender on his phone. 

He had a bedside drawer full of everything the two would need, and a few things to distract them when Derek inevitably knotted Stiles. Hopefully multiple times, if Stiles was lucky. 

First heats were always quiet heats. Every heat after that was a little harder. A little rougher on the 'wolf. But Stiles had prepared. He knew it was coming, even if Derek didn't. 

It hit Derek in the middle of the night. He was trembling and sweating, panting and whining. Stiles pulled him to his chest by his neck, letting Derek curl around him and rut against him with a needy panting whine. 

"Stiles," he gasped out, burying his face in Stiles' throat. Stiles knew what to do, and he did it. He got Derek off, and undressed. He texted Peter, told him to leave them alone for the next day or two, and got to work fingering the trembling werewolf open. 

Its dark out, Stiles can barely make out Derek's face, but he works two long digits into Derek's warmth, pressing into his prostate while he massages his balls with his free hand. 

Stiles isn't good with relationships. He's never been good with them. Too mistrusting. Too broken. Stiles can say with one hundred percent certainty that Derek is the only guy Stiles has ever actually dated. 

He was ten when his mom died. In school, when the kids around him had their middle school relationships, Stiles couldn't be bothered. What was the point, when after school they never saw each other?

Plus at the time, he had Scott to keep his mind off his mother's death and his father's growing alcohol problem. 

His mindset didn't change much in high school. He lost his virginity behind the bleachers of the lacrosse field to Samuel Meijers the first week of freshmen year. 

He learned pretty quickly how much easier it was just to fuck. The relationship part was hard, and that probably had a lot to do with the strained relationship with his dad -which, come on, gay stereotype much?- and the fact that he had watched his mother die. 

He did try dating, but he never got past a date or two before either he broke it off, or the other guy did. So he stuck to fucking, because fucking was something he could do. 

And he got good at it. By the time Scott got bit by Peter, Stiles was getting dicked and dicking others pretty regularly. 

He wasn't above fucking the sexually curious in school, nor did he mind them older. 

There was a dry spell around the time his dad died, and Stiles found his Spark. It was around that time that his sexcapades turned a little darker. Stiles learned about the wonderful world of BDSM, and he never went back. 

He liked sex rough. Liked the hair pulling and the stinging of being stretched a little too far. Loved fucking men to tears, and he did so with little emotion to his partners. 

Stiles wasn't heartless. He took care of them, made sure they came at least twice, but he never let them stay the night, never offered his number and never texted the numbers offered to him. 

And then Derek. 

Derek, with his untrusting green eyes. Stiles could admit to himself he only had intentions to fuck the werewolf senseless. He didn't need a soul mate. Didn't want one. 

He fixed the 'wolf up, sent him on his way, and he'd come back. Stiles had been a bit surprised the werewolf had pulled a move first, but he wasn't complaining, especially when he made such beautiful faces in the throws of orgasm. 

And he kept coming back, and Stiles let him, because he was curious maybe. Because his chest tightened when Derek wrapped his arms around him. 

And then Stiles was offering to take him to dinner, and Derek was blushing and laughing and drenching his fries in ketchup and Stiles couldn't help himself. 

And then he was meeting the family, and thats never happened to Stiles, and he'd maybe been a little jealous that Cora had probably met a couple of people Derek had dated before him. 

Jealous maybe because it took Stiles a decade after his dad died to actually date anyone even remotely worthy of meeting. 

Stiles didn't expect the rage and worry that built up in him when they'd been taken by hunters, and he'd been terrified of it. 

And slowly, Stiles began settling into his role as mate, and at some point, he realized he hadn't looked at another man since then. Hadn't brought anyone to his bed. Hadn't even really taken Derek to bed. 

And Derek stayed the night. And Stiles made him breakfast, and washed him in the shower, and held his hands and let Derek discover everything Stiles' body had to offer, and even a little bit of himself too. 

The falling in love part came right out of left field. It hit him that day Lydia commented on the mate bite. He didn't remember the exact moment it happened, but it had happened before that bite. 

Sometimes Stiles caught himself staring at the scar on his shoulder in the mirror. It took a bit to shake himself off and return to his normally scheduled program, but even that seemed to have changed. 

Derek had weasled his way under Stiles' skin and Stiles found himself opening up about things he'd not talked about ever. 

But now, in Hood River, he felt like a bit of himself -the him before his mom, before Scott and his dad and everything else- had returned. And there was no one Stiles could thank but Derek. 

He hadn't lied when he told Derek he couldn't do the white picket fence life. But this, living in the middle of nowhere with a pack -a family- was as close as he'd ever get. And it was much more than he ever thought he'd get. 

Derek whined, and Stiles smirked, kneeling between his legs, humming when Derek let them fall open further. This, Stiles was good at. 

He was working on the relationship part, but Derek took him for who he was. Didnt ask Stiles to change, and Stiles wouldn't ask Derek to either. 

"There you go, Puppy," Stiles hummed, adding a third finger, watching as Derek stretched around him beautifully. 

Stiles reaches his hand up, coating his fingers and palm in the cum on Derek's stomach, and then uses it to cover his own dick. 

Derek's eyes darken further, breath hitching and his head falling back against the pillow with a groan. "Fuck, Stiles!"

Stiles only smirks, getting his dick nice and wet with Derek's spunk before pushing Derek's knees up to his chest and sinking into him. 

Derek whines again, arms spread out over the bed, feet in the air. Stiles holds himself up on either side of Derek's ribs, rocking into him at a steady pace. 

Remembering Derek's first heat, how worn out Stiles got, he had to remember to pace himself. Derek had his toy now -which he used surprisingly frequently- and there was definitely going to be a dick up Stiles' ass at some point too, but he still needed to pace. 

He felt the piercings along his shaft catch softly on Derek's rim, tugging softly enough to pull a moan from Stiles. 

He fucks Derek until they're both cumming hard, and rolls off him. A split second later, Derek is rolling onto him, legs bracketing on either side of Stiles' hips, smearing cum between the two of them and kissing Stiles like his life depends on it. 

Stiles smirked into his mouth, feeling Derek growing hard all over again. 

"Hot potato," Stiles groans, kissing Derek again. "Your turn." Derek lets out another whine, rutting against Stiles. 

They rearrange themselves, Derek dropping back against the headboard. Stiles easily settles on his lap, hands on the headboard on either side of Derek's head. 

"Open me up, Puppy," he smirks, loving how even in the throws of his heat, Derek blushes red. He loves it even more when he feels Derek's fingers press into him, first one, then two. 

Stiles keeps himself up while Derek works him open, leaning down to kiss his neck, sucking bruises he makes sure stays put. 

Then Stiles is sitting down, trapping Derek's cock under Stiles' balls and rolling his hips and pulling a growled groan from Derek. 

He lifts back up and reaches a hand down, holding Derek still before sinking down onto him. When he's settled fully on Derek's dick, Stiles wiggles a little, pulling soft noises from Derek. 

He works a fast rhythm, using his knees on either side of Derek's hips to push himself up before dropping down again. He feels his dick slapping against Derek's stomach with each sudden drop, smearing pre-cum across his tanned skin. 

Derek's hands easily find Stiles' hips and thighs, his own legs bending a bit to push into Stiles' ass on the down swing. 

Stiles leans forward, grinding down as he kisses Derek roughly. It doesn't take long before he feels the knot forming, before Derek is thrusting his hips up to meet Stiles'.

Stiles tightens his hold on the headboard, breathy moans and gasps leaving his parted lips. He pushes down one last time, hard enough to pop the knot past his rim, and grinds against him until Derek cums hard and fast. 

He curls his arms around Stiles, holding him close to his chest as the orgasm fills Stiles up, a constant spirt of cum soon turning into a dribble. 

Stiles let's out a moan in Derek's ear when Derek wraps a hand around his leaking cock, fisting him hard until he's cumming too, muscles clenching around the knot in his ass as Derek milks him through his much shorter orgasm. 

Stiles let's go of the headboard, arms falling to Derek's shoulders and holding him just as tightly as Derek is holding Stiles, eyes drooping shut. 

"I love you," Derek whines, and Stiles smiles into his skin, dropping lazy open mouthed kisses to the skin of his shoulder. 

"Love you too," Stiles hums. Its gotten a lot easier to say that now. To hear it and believe it. Derek's great at that, Stiles thinks. 

Stiles grinds down again, loving the feeling of Derek's arms tightening around him, the moan ripping from his throat as he cums a little harder. 

"If I fall asleep, I give you full permission to fuck me awake," Stiles mumbles. "Or just fuck me till I wake up."

Derek groans, dropping his face to Stiles' shoulder. "Of course you'd be a somnophiliac."

Stiles just smiles, letting out a breathy noise when Derek slowly pushed into him. "You've only scratched the surface on my kinks, Puppy," Stiles hummed, nuzzling into Derek's neck. "And you started your heat in the middle of the night"

"Sorry," Derek breathed. Stiles just kissed his skin again. 

"Dont be sorry," he said. "Just don't wait up if you're ready for round two."

Derek chuckled, nuzzling into him and kissing the bite mark on his shoulder. "Love you."

Stiles hums softly, settling further against Derek, not at all worried about the drying cum on their stomachs, or the dick up his ass. "Love you too, my pretty little wolf."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! We're finally finished with the book! How do you guys like it? 
> 
> A couple loose ends to tie off since there was no right place to write it in! Gerard becomes Scott's problem! Stiles is learning that not every problem is his problem, so as long as Gerard doesn't hurt anyone in Stiles' pack, Stiles is going to ignore him. 
> 
> Derek wants kids, but Stiles doesn't. They talk about it a lot, and Stiles begins to cave in because who can say no to Derek?
> 
> Cora and Lydia have a little girl (they use Derek's sperm with Lydia!) And that breaks through Stiles' frozen heart towards children. Derek likes to secretly watch Stiles and the toddler when Stiles thinks no one is looking. 
> 
> It takes a couple years before Derek finally convinces Stiles to have a kid of their own. Malia agrees to be a surrogate for them and they have a little boy that they name David (Stiles calls him Dae and absolutely loves him, Derek why didn't you convince me earlier??) 
> 
> Their pack also grows! They take in a teenager named Alex and a werefox named Ambrosia. 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think!!!


End file.
